Sudden Contact
by A Very Thirsty Megalomaniac
Summary: At the dawn of the Great War, first contact was made between the protoss, imperious firstborn of the xel'naga, and the turians, proud militarists. As the galaxy catches fire at this sudden conflict, unlikely alliances are formed while ancient directives are carried out by the oldest minds in the Milky Way. The Koprulu sector has opened, and the zerg are loose. Now complete!
1. Interception

**Joeyray**

_This derelict is gonna be a doozy._

The looming wreckage utterly dwarfed Joeyray's one man utility craft, the armored frame dimly reflecting the light of the nearby sun right into Joeyray's visor as his vehicle scooted towards it. The remnants of a massive burnt out laser battery drifted by, and Joeyray's chest began to lighten.

"Whatcha got for me out there, Joeyray?" said Captain Jem, his ugly mug dominating the feed into Joeyray's helmet.

"Pay-dirt, fellas!" Joeyray hooted. "Jem, you magnificent son of a gun, you done found us a wrecked up battlecruiser!"

Jem exhaled a torrent of smoke from his nostrils, adjusting the cigarette in his mouth.

"Aww yeah," said Jem, cigarette burning in his lips, "told you we was gonna be rich. Them devices always was trouble."

Joeyray spared a glance for the unidentified alien object beyond the derelict, still spinning away in an uncaring sky. It was positively enormous, a large core of energy visible in the "eye." Its shape reminded Joeyray of the pasta shells his mama used to feed him back on Shiloh, though the coloration put him in mind of the shellfish he used to catch there with his dad. _Jem said they looked like tunin' forks, but I ain't never seen one of those. Pasta shells and shellfish for me._ Perhaps it was those familiar images that left him feeling very little trepidation at being so close. _Confederacy tells us to leave 'em be and stay clear – they can shove it. Time to cash in._

"Alright Jem, you sure the feed's gonna hold up?" Carlos's utility craft slid into position near his, getting ready to haul the most valuable crap back to Jem. Joeyray was the one who got to determine just what was valuable.

"So long as you don't pick at it, like you always does," said Jem. "Just take your time, fellas. No one ever comes out near here. And I want this job done right."

"How much of this stuff you think we can get home?" asked Carlos. "Might take two or three trips."

Joeyray stood and shambled towards the airlock, hooking himself to his lifeline on the way. His breathing came deep and steady. Just another job – even if it was a crazy lucrative one.

"If it takes two or three trips, it takes two or three trips," Joeyray said. "Rome weren't built in a day, whatever the hell Rome was. We ain't all gonna get rich in one trip."

"You sure we won't be noticed out here?" asked Carlos, "I feel pretty exposed, man. Feds find us scavenging one of their ships-"

"Confederate law," said Jem, stubbing his cigarette in the ashtray outside of Joeyray's feed, "says not to come near them alien doohickeys. They'd be in violation, just like us."

"Yeah, but they'd have guns, man," said Carlos.

"I am detaching," declared Joeyray, inwardly marveling at how his two partners could still bicker even during the score of a lifetime, "and approaching the derelict."

The airlock opened with a hiss, letting out the atmosphere in seconds. Joeyray felt himself lighten significantly as the gravity departed as he moved forward; the unseen drag his hairy chest and beer belly carried disappearing with the sucking air. He stepped awkwardly out on to the lip of the 'lock and bounced on his heels at the edge, looking into the void.

_And here's the leap. Momma, see how far I come?_

Joeyray leaned forward and propelled himself out of the craft, drifting lazily through space as the cord trailed behind him. Jem's fat bespectacled face was practically squashed against the feed while he did this, his beady eyes darting all over their new prize. Joeyray angled his vision so that Jem could get a better view.

"I'm thinking we all gonna smoke some cigars when this job's done," said Jem, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "'Cause I think these jobs are the last we'll ever have to do."

"Hey, now," said Joeyray, grinning. "Momma always told me that life ain't nothing without work."

"Yeah," said Jem, rolling another cigarette, "think I recall her saying that to me right as I bent her over."

Joeyray shook his head wearily as Carlos jeered and Jem just smiled at him through the feed. _Jackasses_.

The battlecruiser had been scored with dozens of scorch marks along its hull, deep black gouges made by incredible heat. Pieces of rebar and the odd bit of human gore floated idly by as Joeyray continued to make his slow approach to their prize. The bridge, broken from the rest of the ship by an incredible amount of force and heat, came into full view on the slow approach, its remnants fused and twisted together in the blast. _Probably a Yamato. Wonder who the hell got the drop on these feds? _He didn't see other wreckage around.

"Hey, guys?" said Carlos, his voice quivering. "How the hell did this cruiser get all the way out here? And if this is a case of big fish little fish, uh…?"

_Where's the big fish?_

"Coulda been a squadron of Wraiths," said Jem, a new lit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. "Wolfpack of them, cloaked and dangerous? Wouldnta stood a chance."

"This weren't Wraiths, Jem," said Joeyray, whose cord grew more taut by the second. "This ship was hit by some kind of powerful energy blast. Probably Yamato, or something I don't know about."

"Wraiths have them burst lasers," said Jem, rolling his eyes.

Joeyray shook his head, even though Jem wouldn't be able to see it.

"Wouldn't scratch a cruiser, Jem. They use Gemini missiles for AA. Usually reserved for big suckers." Joeyray jerked and then hung suspended in space, safely attached by his lifeline. He stared at the cruiser, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. "That there? That was a big sucker."

"Well then who in the hell could-" Jem cut himself off with a curse as the feed died in a hiss of static. Joeyray tapped his helmet, which naturally did nothing.

"I told you not to pick at that damn thing, Joeyray!"

"I ain't been pickin' at it! I told you to spring for some maintenance on that dang thing back on Mar Sara and-"

"Hey! Hey! Would you two idiotas just shut up for one moment and-"

The three of them bickered loudly while Jem tried his best to fix the feed back on his end. Carlos eventually swapped to yelling in rapid-fire Spanish while Joeyray just dangled aimlessly in front of the wrecked ship. He could hear Jem grumbling as he began rattling in nearby drawers for his tools.

Joeyray sighed and stretched, wondering why it had gotten colder all of a sudden. Then he noticed that the heavens ... weren't quite as bright as they had been a few seconds before. A shadow had been cast over him … and the entire cruiser wreck.

Joeyray looked up.

"Uh." Joeyray gulped, grabbed his lifeline with his right hand, now sweating profusely. "Uh, uh, guys? Guys?"

Carlos, who had mercifully swapped to English, was still drowning him out, swearing on God, his mother, and his sweet sister that he would be founding his own planet free of idiot gringos with his share of the fortune. They couldn't hear Joeyray, who really didn't want to raise his voice.

"Guys?"

"Feed's back up." Jem's dirty face reappeared in the corner of Joeyray's vision – and his jaw, set in anger at the technical difficulties, immediately dropped.

A massive circular ship, gleaming resplendently in gold and silver, had appeared above them. Its hull was smooth and shiny, and its inner workings were connected by some kind of shining blue energy membrane. It shifted with terrible purpose towards Jem's recovery vessel, bringing itself almost directly above Jem.

"What the – holy shit! What is-"

"Guys? Guys? Hey, do you – oh." Carlos had seen it as well. He fell completely silent.

Joeyray cleared his throat.

"Uh, I think it's time to go! Like, right now!"

Jem was flipping switches, powering up engines, his jaw left so slack in shock that the cigarette had fallen out.

"I'm gettin' the fuck out!" he yelled, glancing up at Joeyray briefly, beads of moisture on his forehead shining in the dim light. "I'll make a pass for you fellas! Joeyray, get back in your ship, I'll-"

Jem never got a chance to finish. An incandescent beam of blue light shot directly under the alien craft. With a horrifying rumble, a ripple spread out from the impact, shifting the debris as the blast effortlessly penetrated the recovery vessel.

Jem screamed as the beam moved further up the craft, the explosions moving closer and closer to him.

"Oh sweet Jesus, no … " Carlos screamed, and Joeyray could only utter that sentence over and over again. The last thing he saw in the feed before it went dark was Jem's face exploding outward in a shower of blood, brains, and bone as the heat and shrapnel reached him.

Their pride and joy and source of income, the vessel known as _Lady Lou,_ was gone. Its captain-and their friend-was dead. The shockwave sent further ripples throughout the wreckage site, shaking the almost sobbing Joeyray. He grabbed the cord and tugged it twice, which propelled him backwards with a reassuring and familiar force. The massive craft hung above him still, its energy beam having been turned off.

_What are you?!_

Two more alien ships of a similar coloration appeared suddenly above the circular one, materializing as if from nowhere. Their color scheme was still gold and silver, but their design was lengthier, more like a zeppelin. Joeyray thought he could see smaller ships emerge from them, pouring towards where he and Carlos were stranded.

_Dammit dammit dammit, no …_

"There's more of them..." Carlos said, his voice quivering through the radio. "We ain't alone, Joeyray, God saw fit to make more than just heaven and earth."

Joeyray almost wet himself when he slammed into a side of the airlock, having finally been pulled to relative safety. Planting his boots as best he could on the floor, he hit the airlock button and then rushed to the cockpit.

"Joeyray? Joeyray? You there? Tell me you're still there!"

"Carlos! I'm here. Stay calm!" Joeyray wasn't sure why he said that. He certainly didn't feel calm – and he didn't see a single way to get out of this alive.

_Closest planets? Mar Sara? No, Chau Sara's closer. Christ – that's all there is! And we'd have to go past that damn device to get there!_

"Carlos? We need to push for Chau Sara. That's our only way out. We're gonna have to cut close to one of them spinners – we don't got much fuel." Joeyray blinked fast, trying to get the trickles of sweat past his eyes.

"Joeyray, you sure about this? I heard those things tear ships to pieces!"

Joeyray powered up the engines and began to maneuver himself through the debris field, the alien ships passing through his line of vision as he did so.

"Carlos, I've _heard_ that as well. But I done _seen_ what them aliens will do. You with me? Amigo?"

For several horrible seconds, the only thing Joeyray heard on the other end was Carlos's harsh breathing. Joeyray chugged as best he could towards the spinning alien device, dodging shredded pieces of cruiser as he did so, hoping Carlos would follow.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm with you. You got it, Joeyray. I'm right behi-"

Carlos cut off mid-sentence as the wreckage around Joeyray lit up with a violent orange. _Dammit. Sorry Carlos._ Joeyray couldn't see what had got Carlos, but it was safe to say he was now being hunted.

For several long, silent, horrible minutes, Joeyray watched the spinner grow larger through his viewport. He sweated horribly underneath his suit; he could feel damp patches around his groin and pits, but he didn't dare leave the cockpit to take it off. He had no idea whether he was being followed, or even where the alien ships were. He certainly wasn't going to turn his little boat around to find out.

"Come on..." muttered Joeyray, leaning forward in his seat. "How far they gonna follow ya? Not much farther..."

The ship started beeping, indicating that he was way too close to something. Normally that something would be a big old chunk of debris floating out in the void, but right now...

The engine abruptly exploded, propelling Joeyray forward against the viewport. He screamed as flames began to lick the vessel's aft. He rose unsteadily, reaching for the cockpit fire extinguisher and grabbing it with gloved hands.

Joeyray let loose with it as best he could, trying to hasten the death of the flames even as the lack of atmosphere took its toll on them. Joeyray could see the hull breach – and he had next to no way of fixing it.

When the flames finally died from the mix of vacuum and foam, Joeyray got to marvel at the massive hole where his engines used to be. His suit would last for some time outside atmo – but not long enough when the engines were shot. Now all he had was momentum – and he could see the alien capital ships in the distance through the breach … heading for him as several sleeker, smaller ships could be seen heading back to them.

_They're just some kind of carrier, probably not even armed! _Joeyray almost laughed, but instead he let out a dry, racking wheeze from inside his suit. _I'm screwed. Sorry momma, I did my best._

Joeyray watched in horrid fascination through the massive aft hull breach as the two carriers, now accompanied by the bigger circle ship, closed the distance. The spinner went by as well, still enormous in Joeyray's line of vision, but now between him and the alien flotilla.

_Past that hurdle. Maybe they won't wanna get close…?_

No such luck. The flotilla was accelerating towards him with all speed. The only attention they gave the spinner was to angle themselves so that they would not directly collide with it. Joeyray's heart raced, lips moving under his helmet, offering a prayer to any deity or devil that might be listening, broken only by a single silent apology to his momma for his lapse in faith.

_Momentum ain't gonna put me outta the reach of those alien engines. Damn things are probably powered by hate for all I know. Goddammit, why can't I be drunk for this?!_

The carriers were apparently close enough. They were almost on top of the spinner, and Joeyray was close enough to see the first of the smaller ships emerge from inside-

A blue light leapt from the energy eye of the spinner, attaching itself to the carrier.

_What the hell?_

The energy continued to surge forward, leaping to the bigger ship and the other carrier as they apparently came within range. Joeyray felt static electricity build up even within his tiny craft as all too suddenly, the spinner's insides stopped turning and the alien ships disappeared, leaving behind only a quickly dissipating stream of blue and a soft ripple in space. They were gone.

"Wha- no way. Hot damn!" Joeyray clapped his gloved hands together, even though it created no noise in the vacuum. "Oh sweet Jesus, Satan, whoever, aw, I owe you fellers a damn b-"

Joeyray cut himself off with a sharp gasp. The three smaller ships the carrier had sent out before being whisked off to God knows where were still heading toward him. They looked to be careening out of control.

"Wha- no, no, no, no, _shit_-"

Joeyray screamed as the first one detonated seemingly without reason some ways away from the shuttle. He laughed as the second did likewise. He never had time to react to the third, which crashed at full speed through his badly damaged craft, filling his vision with soft light.


	2. First Contact

**Adrien**

"All ships are green, General," said the helmsman. "Routine sweep of Relay 118 complete. Nothing out of place. Shall we move on?"

General Adrien Victus surveyed the inactive relay through the viewport, mandibles relaxed. Some of his contemporaries would have been incensed at being told to do a "crap job" like making sure relays weren't being tampered with, but after the Taetrus debacle it was actually quite therapeutic. Checking ancient relays and scaring away smugglers was a great deal more straightforward than fighting heavily armed separatists. _That d__oesn't mean I'm going to take this "crap job" any less seriously._

"We've had some pirate activity in this area," said Adrien, "and smuggler activity near inactive relays is typically rather high. Ships don't usually come out here. Let's hold for five hours and see if we can't surprise someone. Assuming we find nothing, we'll move on."

"Yes, General. Relaying your orders now." The helmsman of the Turian 37th Flotilla flagship _Relentless_ swiftly broadcast Adrien's orders to the rest of the flotilla. The other ships present shifted into a loose formation, ready to react to any threat, no matter how unlikely.

Adrien nodded in approval. _Any asari or salarian might wonder why we would take any kind of precaution on a milk run like this. Some of their officers might even express disapproval at holding in empty space. But here, in this turian vessel? There is only the silence of complete compliance._

That silence was broken suddenly by a nervous cough from the helmsman.

"General, just detected some kind of energy spike," said the helmsman, surprised. "Running a scan."

_Oh? This could be interesting._

"Standby … standby … no ships detected," said the helmsman before giving a start. "But it's uh-"

Adrien stared at the helmsman, surprised at his hesitation. Commander Petrus was a long-serving and steadfast leader within the Hierarchy. His bearing had been, up until now, completely unflappable. Adrien saw several flight officers look at each other in confusion from their seats, one of them tapping his screen as if to try and correct a visual glitch. _Something's wrong._

"Report, Commander," said Adrien, irritated at their trepidation.

"General, it's coming from the relay. One-eighteen just went active," said the helmsman, causing a slight hush at his words. "Something's about to jump in from the other side."

_You see something new every day. _Adrien did not have the luxury of restraint or the time for hesitation. Historical precedent and fleet protocol came first – and he had to appear completely composed in front of his men. _No matter how bad it is. It could be the rachni come again, and I have to be rock steady. _

"Prep for arrival, all hands at stations. All ships maintain formation and power up weapons systems." The CIC became a flurry of hushed activity as turians powered up systems and braced themselves. Adrien folded his arms behind his back, trying to look as authoritative and at ease as he could. "Bring me a visual of 118."

A soft blue image of the relay was projected in front of Adrien. The relay, previously barely lit up and almost motionless, now shone with blue light. There was still no sign of ships, meaning something on the other end rushed towards them still.

"Long jump..." Adrien murmured to himself. He waited a few more seconds.

The jump completed shortly after. Three sleek yet sizeable ships with an unknown signature and strange profiles showed up on the translucent screen. Smaller ships erupted in a surge of activity from two of them, making a beeline for the flotilla.

"They're scrambling fighters. Engage the closest vessel." _It's like they knew we were here – those fighters were climbing out of their damn hangers seconds after they jumped. _Adrien gritted his teeth.

_Relentless _shuddered slightly as she began to deliver her opening salvos. The screen in front of Adrien lit up as the projectiles leapt from their guns and crossed the distance between very quickly. Adrien frowned when he saw that the fighters – sent immediately towards him and his men – began to retreat.

_What in the Spirits is going on here? _Adrien could not help but marvel at the precision and speed of those fighters, but he could not for the life of him figure out what the pilots were thinking. _Did t__hey get called back? _

The projectiles began abruptly disappearing as they reached their targets. Adrien clenched his jaw. _Too late._

"General, readings show a slight discrepancy … one moment," Petrus glared at the readout, as if it had failed him somehow.

Adrien waited for the Commander. The fighters began rushing toward the 37th again, and the biggest ship – some kind of rotating circle – shifted slowly in their direction. _Impressive barriers._ The ships seemed to have held up remarkably well under the still-continuing deluge. Adrien was about to say something to Petrus when he noticed something odd.

_Our rounds are disappearing before they connect..._

"General, we've got confirmed impact near the alien vessels but, uh, there seems to be some kind of advanced point defense system in place..." Petrus coughed as Adrien turned to him. "It'll probably fail when we throw a bit more at it, we-"

"I don't see any kind of discharge from those ships, Commander." Adrien closed his eyes and grimaced. "It's some kind of shield. Continue the barrage and make sure those GARDIANs are warmed up, those fighters are almost on us." Adrien counted around thirty of them, moving fast. Surprisingly, their carriers were also now closing in on the 37th Flotilla.

_A few dozen fighters won't win you this battle._ The fighters entered GARDIAN range. The lasers fired with all speed, rapidly connecting with their tiny targets. None of them broke up.

"I need a report on those GARDIANs!" barked Adrien. "What in the spirits is going on?!"

"Damage isn't good, General! Fighters have shields too, we're being stra-" Petrus cut himself off with a muffled gasp as _Relentless _suddenly shook. Petrus grimaced after glancing at his instruments. "Barriers ineffective, General! They're all over us!"

Adrien felt tooth grind against tooth when he looked at the screen. _Relentless' _image was covered with fighters. When Adrien felt the ship shake again, he knew that she was taking far too much damage far too quickly.

_Bigger ship is still closing in. We're coated in fighters. Weapons didn't leave a scratch. _

Adrien shook himself out of his stupor as the largest alien ship suddenly discharged its weapons.

"Spirits…" _Unbroken_, the second largest ship in the 37th, reported a massive impact before following up with countless distress signatures. Checking the readout, it was clear that the blast had rent the ship in twain. The barriers had not affected the energy blasts there either.

_We're breaking apart._ Adrien closed his eyes, breathed deeply. _We can't win this … so we may as well get as much out of this as we can._

_Here we go._

"Petrus, prepare to ram the closest alien vessel," Adrien said, feeling slightly absurd as he did so.

"General?" Commander Petrus looked at his superior officer as if he were insane.

_Petrus, flatfooted again? I had such high hopes for you._ Adrien looked his subordinate in the eye.

"Ramming speed, Commander. It's the biggest gun we can throw at them until we bring some dreadnoughts to bear," said Adrien before turning back to the screen and hitting the button that would broadcast his words to the rest of the fleet.

"All ships, this is General Victus. Our weapons have had no effect. If this is to be our new foe, we need to determine just how much we have to throw at them before they break. _Relentless _is on a ramming course. All other ships, pull back and prepare to jump. Captain Cadius will be assuming command. Captain, contact first the Hierarch and then the Council as soon as possible and tell them what we saw here. " Victus cleared his throat, tried to calm the thrumming of his heart. "Make the jump after the collision, it is _vital_ we know what these ships can endure. We'll be sending out escape pods as we go, pick up as many as you can. It has been an honor."

Adrien let the button go and let out a deep sigh. He turned back to Petrus, who Adrien could tell was trying to look as dignified as he could in the face of near certain death. Adrien's announcement had sent most of the CIC to scramble for the pods; the only personnel who remained steady were those who knew they were vital to making contact.

As _Relentless _rumbled again, Adrien marched up to the Commander and gave him a stern look.

"A captain should always go down with his ship," said Victus. Petrus nodded, not making eye contact. Victus smiled and clasped his shoulder. "But I'm relieving you and taking this helm. Head to the pods. Make sure Tarquin knows that I did not flinch."

Petrus coughed again, trying to hide a relieved smile. "Sir…"

"Go."

Petrus took off. Adrien took his place and addressed the remaining officers, one of whom was screaming that their barriers were offline. Adrien quieted him with a look before beginning.

"Stand with me and finish this for Palaven. These ships will never disgrace her skies while the likes of us still guard them. Full speed!"

There was not even a murmur of dissent. _As it should be._ The senior flight officer reported extensive damage, but that the escape pods were being left untouched. The large circular ship had opened fire on _Courage_ and destroyed her, all hands lost. Fighters had taken down two frigates, they were not certain which ones. Fires were spreading all over the crew quarters, with but a few life signatures remaining. Adrien ordered it vented, commending the poor souls stuck down there for their bravery. The rest of the flotilla retreated, pursued by the fighters and the largest ship's weapon fire. Adrien hoped _Relentless' _sacrifice would buy them the time to pick up the trail of escape pods they'd left behind them. _Heroes, every single one._ _Closing._

They were almost upon the alien vessel, which now tried to turn away from them, demonstrating surprising maneuverability for its size. _It's still too late, you bastards._

_Relentless_ slowed down suddenly, held back by that strange shield. Adrien could hear straining metal on top of all the roaring flames and muffled yells ... but it gave way after a few tense seconds.

"Brace for impact!" bellowed Adrien, trying to keep both himself and his crew calm at the coming chaos. _Spirits, I hope this combat data will let the rest of the Hierarchy engage these monsters on better terms than we did. _Adrien grabbed hold of a nearby railing and gripped it with all the strength he could muster.

Everything … broke. The ship lurched forward with near incalculable force, throwing Adrien and the few other officers remaining away from whatever they had been holding on to with ease. Adrien heard crazed screaming from someone in pain and felt searing heat lick his face as he tried to regain his balance and passed by a naked flame. The ship VI calmly reported massive system failures in every conceivable part of the ship throughout the chaos, only becoming audible when the chaos abruptly ceased.

"…in the flight deck. Hull breaches detected in operations deck sub-sectors: three, nine, and fourteen. Initiating emergency venting procedure – error! Failure in emergency venting procedure. Hull breaches detected in crew quarters sub…"

Victus listened to the VI drone on, staring wide-eyed and flat on his back at the ceiling of the CIC. _Well … not too many people can claim to have survived _that_ kind of experience._

Adrien stood unsteadily, dripping cobalt blood from… somewhere. He would check later, if it ever mattered.

Adrien staggered back to where he had been standing. The 37th was gamely trying to hail the ship, mostly cut off by static. The viewscreen still flickered, displaying a truly frightening amount of wreckage … including the enemy ship they had just scythed through. _Well, well._

"I don't know if you can hear me," said Adrien to the voices, his voice cracking slightly under the pain, "This is General Victus. These ships are _not_ unstoppable. Apply enough force, they break the same as anything else. Report to the Hierarch-" Adrien bent over coughing. When it subsided, Adrien was surprised to see there was no blood, though it hurt like blazes to move his chest around. _Broken rib. Not that it would change much to be intact right now…_

The viewscreen flickered one last time and died along with the static. Adrien Victus was the last turian standing in the CIC. He limped to a viewport, trying not to whimper. _Relentless _was still carrying itself forward, no doubt leaving massive chunks of itself behind. _The 37th will be making a tactical withdrawal … but with luck, this will be a strategic victory._

The two remaining alien ships were still surprisingly close. It looked like they were guarding their fallen comrade, perhaps trying to bring back survivors. _An honorable task. _Adrien almost wished them luck before the circular ship suddenly lit up with strange energy.

_Oh … spirits, no…_

The … _mothership_, or whatever it was, let out a burst of energy. The space around it inexplicably filled with ships; suddenly surrounding the mothership and replacing the one they had just lost, each one likely as belligerent and well-equipped as their fallen brother.

Adrien Victus growled before saluting his opponents through the viewport to the best of his ability.

_Enjoy your easy victory, bastards. The Hierarchy will break you – just as we did the krogan._

Adrien's ribs hurt. He let himself slide against a nearby wall, stared at the blue blood coating his chest. Over the VI still listing the damage, Adrien thought he heard a familiar sound.

_Must be going delirious. Why the hell would there be an active mass relay – oh._

Adrien Victus passed out, missing the jump that would take him to the Koprulu sector.


	3. The Good Admiral

**Alexei**

"Play it again."

Alexei Stukov leaned forward in his seat, unlit cigar dangling through chapped lips. The two technicians hastened to comply, resetting the thirty second video.

Alexei nodded as the deep space recording flashed blue light through the screen, destroying the colonial's helpless craft. He watched the alien ships, entranced.

"Middle one is a probable command vessel," said Alexei through one corner of his mouth. "Can see markings on the ships, definite patterns in coloration and design. Made with form and function in mind, but not human." The camera had zoomed in to the vessels, focusing on the smaller ships emerging from their hangers. Alexei narrowed his eyes. "And they're also quite persistent when hunting humans, it seems." He looked to the two technicians, who were giving him anxious looks. _Can you feel that, my friends? History takes a new turn. And here I am, about to write the books as I see fit._ Alexei rose from his chair, removing his cigar and putting it in his coat pocket.

"Gentlemen, I thank you for your diligence. How many of these recordings do you have?" asked Alexei, all smiles.

The two men looked to each other. The younger one, a German with a shaved head, put up three fingers.

"Good. Send me the copies – you know the address." Alexei waited patiently, smiling at the two of them whenever they cast a worried glance his way. "Excellent. Delete all local files." The German began to speak up, but was hushed by his Iranian partner. To their credit, they were quick and thorough. _Exemplary, to the end._

"Thank you, gentlemen. Please wait here for a moment," said Alexei before striding out of the only exit, adjusting his hat as he did so. The two ghosts were waiting for him. Alexei paused until the door thudded shut behind him.

"The two men in there are in possession of Class Seven information and possess insufficient clearance. Leave no trace," said Alexei. _Unfortunate, but history will forget quite quickly about these two._

The ghosts nodded, unshouldering their rifles as they walked through the door. Alexei heard a few soft thuds and a moan. _Quick and thorough, as always._ Alexei walked with all speed back to his office, reaching into one of his innumerable coat pockets and procuring his phone while he did so. He quickly punched in a UPL code.

"Identification, please," said the automated voice system.

Alexei checked that the hallway was clear before responding. "Admiral Alexei Stukov, UPL Special Projects Division. Eight, seven, four, five, one. Requesting secure channel to Admiral Gerard DuGalle." _Reception is good today._

"Voice pattern recognized," said the system. Alexei tapped his foot impatiently. "Credentials confirmed. Hold, please."

Alexei continued on his way, now nodding to the handful of other scientists and technicians who passed by. He wondered if any of them would run into the two ghosts, who would at this point be carrying the bodies out of the installation. _They would know better than to ask any questions. _He had almost reached his office when Gerard finally connected.

"Alexei? You do remember the time difference, don't you? I had just put Camille to bed and you woke her – you know how much trouble we have getting her to sleep." Alexei could hear a faint high pitched voice coming from the phone as well, and Gerard gently trying to shush it.

"Put her on the phone then, old friend, and I will see what I can do," said Alexei, a small smile on his face as he entered his soundproofed office. _Let's see if I still have a way with the girls._

Gerard chuckled and Alexei heard the phone being handed to someone else.

"Uncle Stukov? Are you calling because you want to visit us again?" The girl's voice was halting, as if unfamiliar with English. _Surely you would know better than to try and teach your children French first, Gerard? UPL admiral indeed…_

"Yes, little Camille. I will be visiting very soon. Have you been good to your sister?" Alexei well remembered the fights she and Madeleine had been having with each other at the last visit.

"Yes, Uncle Stukov. Will you bring your two dogs with you?" Camille sounded faintly in awe at speaking with the strange Russian friend of her father's again.

"What do you- Oh? Oh yes! Agents Saburov and Baker," said Alexei, as always astonished at the memories of young children. "Of course. Do be a dear and stop your sister from trying to climb on them this time - without hitting. Violence is not the answer. Now, I hear you've been a naughty girl."

"No, no I've been good!" said Camille, suddenly desperate.

"Oh? Good girls go to bed at a reasonable hour, to lessen the load on their hard working parents," said Alexei, trying to restrain his sudden glee. "They would not keep them awake, especially in such … interesting times."

"I can be good! Here, papa…" Stukov smiled to himself, imagining the scamper of her little feet as she ran to bed. Gerard laughed as he brought the phone back to his ear.

"Thank you, old friend. I've always appreciated your way with her," said Gerard, sounding more tired than Alexei was used to hearing him. "You plan on visiting, then? Does that require the use of this channel, at this hour?"

"Hold on Gerard," Alexei sat down in his chair, pulling out his cigar and laying it on his desk. "Alright, sorry, I'm in my office. Soundproofed. Did I tell you about this posting?"

"I try to stay out of the affairs of Special Projects," said Gerard. "People tend to disappear. Why, has something happened?"

"I have Class Seven information on my secure account," said Alexei. "I think you need to see this."

"Class Seven?" The tiredness vanished from Gerard's tone. "One moment, Alexei, I will need to view this in the panic room. I don't want to have to set ghosts after my own family if they overhear something." _Yes... that would be awkward._

Alexei drummed his hairy knuckles against the edge of the desk. He desperately wanted to light the cigar, only stopped by his knowledge of how much his friend hated his little habit. _Take a little longer why don't you, old friend? I would have thought putting your daughter to bed might elicit a swifter pace._

"Very well, Alexei, I am ready," said Gerard, sighing as he likely sat down. "If I recall, you are also in a soundproofed location? We would not want the events of Beirut to repeat themselves now, would we?"

"I am secure, Admiral," said Alexei. "There should be far fewer bodies this time. The technicians responsible were already taken care of."

"Good. I have always appreciated your efficiency, Alexei," said Gerard, sounding a little uncomfortable. "I do hope they … did their duty with good cause. Well?"

Alexei's gaze lingered on the cigar for a few moments before he responded.

"Do you recall the deep space probes we sent in after our wayward colonists?" he asked.

"Hmm. Now that you mention it, yes, though my mind is hardly occupied by such things these days." Gerard didn't sound particularly interested. "Last I recall they spent most of their time drinking, reproducing, and fighting each other. Has something happened?"

_History, my good admiral. A new wind is blowing. I hope you are ready._

"First contact, old friend," said Alexei, letting the urgency and excitement creep in. "The evidence is incontrovertible. We are not alone in this universe." There was silence on the other end of the line, though Alexei thought he could hear Gerard faintly chewing on his lip.

"Are you certain, Alexei?" he asked, finally.

_Must I define "incontrovertible" for you, Gerard?_

"Yes, my friend," said Alexei, struggling to contain his weariness. "I have the videos on my account. I can send them to you. Three videos, although so far I have only viewed the first."

"Hmph. Men died for this did they?" Gerard asked, suddenly gruff. "Very well, send them to me, and I will bring up a visual. We can watch them all together. I will see you again in a minute." Gerard hung up.

Alexei again resisted the urge to bring the cigar back to his lips while scooting his laptop across the desk to him. Accessing the videos proved more difficult than Alexei anticipated as UPL checks had become even more stringent in the last few months. _Curse Brazil and their damnable intelligence network. With any luck, Gerard and I can make them see the light with this … evidence._

Alexei sent the files and requested a visual uplink. Gerard was prompt in his response.

The two admirals stared at each other, blinking.

"I hardly ever see you out of that hat, Alexei," said Gerard, drawing his purple dressing gown closer to his chest.

"And I have never seen you in a dressing gown before, Gerard," said Alexei, utterly failing to contain his amusement. "All things eventually come to pass. Shall we?"

Gerard pointed his screen to the small TV screen in his surprisingly classy panic room. _Who has the time to water flowers in a panic room? Did Helena insist on decorating? You married a remarkable woman, Gerard._

"First clip."

Alexei said nothing as the thirty second video played. Gerard too, was silent off-screen, coughing a little as the video came to a close.

"Interesting," was the only thing his old friend said.

"Second clip? I have not yet seen these other two." Alexei didn't even wait for his friend to nod.

The second video played. It was a ten second clip of a probe over the colonized planet Chau Sara. The first seven seconds were spent staring at the planet's surface before something large and spiky emerged from out of frame and drifted gently by.

"Appears to be some kind of space faring bug," said Gerard. "It appears … enormous. Though after that Ragnasaur scare back in '92, I have my doubts as to whether we can judge that creature intelligent. Let's see the third clip."

The third was from another probe near the wreckage of the battlecruiser. The camera was focused on the spinning alien device that had so perplexed Alexei when he had first found them.

"Something's … different." _Those … spinners … they weren't lit up when I looked at them last._

After a few moments of silence, a blue streak appeared next to the alien device, leaving behind a badly damaged and clearly alien vessel. Long, sparking, and obviously barely functional, the vessel began to drift among the wreckage, having apparently lost most of its momentum from its journey.

"That," said Gerard in impressed tones, "looks most incontrovertible, my old friend."

The clip was four minutes long, but the remainder of it was simply tracking the vessel as it bled debris. Alexei clucked his tongue in disappointment when the clip finally ended. _No jump scare?_

"Well," said Gerard, bringing himself back into the frame and face to face with Alexei, "I would say you've done it, Alexei. Extraterrestrial life. I was told that we had kept careful track of the colonial's technological development, but I recall nothing like any of that ever being recorded. So … what do you intend to do with this?"

Alexei smiled widely at his old friend. "Why, Gerard, I intend to change the course of humanity's future."

Gerard's eyes narrowed. "You have a plan?"

"The beginning of one, perhaps," said Alexei, toying with the cigar, keeping it out of his friend's sight. "Tell me, Gerard, what would you say is the greatest threat to mankind as it stands now?"

"In all honesty?" Gerard looked away from the screen, brow furrowed. He shrugged, his dressing gown shifting audibly against the hair on his pale chest. "Internal struggles. Brazil represents a particularly vicious threat, I suppose."

"_Wrong." _Alexei rose from his seat and leaned forward, staring into Gerard's eyes. "What we have just seen changes _everything_, Gerard. Aliens exist, and they are killing humans."

Gerard looked confused. "I can hardly concede that the deaths of a few colonials is enough to warrant-"

"They are building ships," said Alexei, causing Gerard to fall silent. "Some of them can even wander the stars without them. They have fleets of their own, and a means of FTL travel. The UPL has survived worse than man's inhumanity to man. But … what about nonhuman's inhumanity to man?"

"Go on," said Gerard, looking intrigued but cautious.

"The UPL has been called heavy-handed and inhumane," said Alexei. _In the past. By people who were quickly shot._ "But we know that its purpose is a benign one, truly. To safeguard humanity from the likes of genetic impurity, further environmental damage … and now we can add extraterrestrial sapients to the list.

"I will present to you an analogy, old friend. Back in St. Petersburg lives my cousin. His children fight a great deal, often coming to blows. They are loud, crude, and violent. But the minute someone outside the family lays a hand on one of them…"

"They come together and bring them down," finished Gerard.

"Our squabbles with the South American Coalition and its … bastard Brazilian overlords are nothing but the squabblings of children, Gerard," said Alexei, stroking the end of his cigar. "If we presented a greater threat, our wayward brethren will fall in line. Furthermore, I think it high time we reclaimed our wayward colonies, if only to bring them under the warm and protective embrace of Earth's ruling government."

"Really, Alexei?" asked Gerard, taken aback. "This threat, while startling, is still utterly remote. Can you imagine the cost of such an undertaking?"

"Humanity's fleets, when they do not have their guns trained on insurgents, lay idle," said Alexei. "With aliens running amok amongst the stars, humanity must now present a united front on _all_ fronts. Should the colonies fall, these creatures, with their clearly advanced technology, could trace the colonials back here, putting Earth in jeopardy."

Gerard chewed his lip, looking uncertain. "I … I don't know about this, Alexei."

"You don't need to _know_, my good admiral," said Alexei. "You just have to trust me. We are at least in agreement that this footage should be shared with the public?"

Gerard nodded. "Yes, we are in agreement there."

"Then surely, as the head of the UPL Special Projects Division, it would be up to me when and how to disclose and present this information?" asked Alexei with a devious smile.

Gerard was suddenly looking very worried.

"You have a plan, Alexei," he said, sounding resigned.

"Oh … Gerard." Alexei grabbed his cigar and rolled it in between his fingers. "As I said, I'm still at the beginning stages, I'm a long way off from what you could truly call a plan. Would you be comfortable addressing the Central Council on relatively short notice, on United Powers News?"

"Comfortable, perhaps not," said Gerard, making Alexei's heart sink. "I promised Helena I would stay in Orleans for a little longer, for the girls. I would still be willing, however, yes ... if only because it is you asking, my old friend."

Alexei nodded, smiling. "Good. In that case, _now_ I have a plan."


	4. Aliens and Critters

**James**

_Mar Sara is a haven for the lost._

Marshal Jim Raynor looked over the dusty old town called Backwater Station from the ridge above it. The day was hot, with only a gentle breeze coming from the southeast. The people below were a mix of current prospectors and former soldiers that sluggishly milled about as the sun beat down on them overhead. A few lonely old bunkers peppered the perimeter of the town, the steel turned a dull red from the relentless wind and dust.

_Looks peaceful enough. Sleepy enough place … except for these two idiots I guess._

Jim sighed and turned back to Buck and Allen, the two worthless hicks that had made him come all the way out here in the first place. Buck was wearing his baseball cap low to better cover his face, and had folded his arms in an attempt to maintain some semblance of dignity. Allen was just looking down and scuffing the dirt with his booted foot, kicking some dust on to Jim's bike in the process.

"Cut that out." Jim's voice made them look up as he strode back toward them, eyes level, posture straight. "You come up with a way to make this right?"

"Ray's a liar and a scoundrel," said Buck before spitting into the dust. "Half them damages he made up just so's we'd have to pay for 'em."

"That dang jukebox never did work," said Allen, nodding, "and we was well away from it, while we was quarrelling."

Jim suspected that this was true, but the fact of the matter was that Buck and Allen had disturbed the peace in a most mighty fashion.

"Doesn't matter. When you two drew on each other, you forfeit all your right to complain about the establishment," said Jim, voice stern. "Ray says he won't press charges, just wants you two to pay up and get gone. Four hundred credits, each."

"Well see, here's the thing," said Allen, adjusting his overalls. "I can't afford that no more, for the reasons me and Buck was impolitely discussin'."

"Which is…?" Jim folded his arms.

"Buck ya see," said Allen, glaring at Buck as he did so, "was driving my truck over yonder through the wasteland. I'd been drinking and wanted to obey them rules of the road you lawmen keep going on about-"

"We was obeyin' the law," said Buck, nodding.

"Anyhow," continued Allen, "somethin' leaps in fronta the truck, and we accidentally hit it. I was asleep, and Buck didn't wanna wake me, but uh, whatever that thing was, it musta been pretty heavy, because it did a number on my vehicle. Uh, thing is, my money's gonna be tied up fixin' it until further notice."

"You tryin' to leave me high and dry and after what I did for you, boy?" growled Buck, adjusting his cap and stepping toward Allen, who held his ground.

"I didn't leave ya at the wheel to hit some bigass dog, you dumb shit!" yelled Allen, face reddening. "_You_ was supposed to stay sober!"

"That's enough." Jim didn't have to raise his voice. The two quailed before him, both stepping away with their hands raised by their sides in an effort to placate him. _Funny. If they just knew the whole story, they probably wouldn't feel nearly as intimidated._ Raynor knew that Allen had spent his time serving the Confederacy as a siege tank gunner, and had likely mulched marines far more capable than poor old Jim. As for Buck, he'd spent so much time in firebat armor that he smelled permanently like kerosene. _Had we met on the field of battle back when, they'd have seen it all differently._ But they hadn't, and now Jim Raynor was a marshal while they were just two drunk old hicks.

_Allen's probably exaggerating the damage but still … better take a look anyway._

"Why don't you show me this truck," said Jim, adopting a friendlier tone. "You said you hit a dog?"

"I hit _somethin'_," said Buck, shrugging.

"Well, how much damage could a damn dog do?"

The three men trudged toward the truck in question with Jim taking the rear to insure there were no escapes or other "accidents." Their combat boots left soft indentations in the dirt as they walked in no particular hurry, the heat weighing each man down some. _Find me some concrete and I could fry an egg on it._

The two idiots flanked either side of the front of the car, Allen patting the top of the hood uneasily. Jim got a good long look at what was left of the roadkill.

"That … wasn't a dog." Jim crouched down, lightly pressing an index finger against some of the half dried liquid caught on the bumper, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. _It looks like blood, but its got the consistency of snot._ Jim reached for some other evidence.

Flecks of a hard brown substance, perhaps some kind of shell or bark, lay scattered across the front of the truck. A large part of it had caught in the metal, and Jim couldn't pull it out. Looked like some kind of light brown spike or spine, but Jim could not name a single plant or critter on the planet that made anything like this. The entire front of the truck steamed faintly, its surface coated in red and brown. Jim leaned in and sniffed the air, and immediately regretted it. The strange debris gave off an odor that was at once both revoltingly organic and strangely chemical. Jim turned away, trying to resist the urge to gag before looking back at the two wide-eyed hicks.

"How the _fuck_ did you fellas come to the conclusion that this was a dog?" asked Jim.

Allen squinted through his glasses at the thing. "Well, fact is, what the hell else could it be, Jimmy? Musta been one big ol' mean sonofabitch too, because now the truck won't run. I couldn't get that spine out, neither."

"Dogs don't have spines, Allen," said Jim.

"Well shit," Allen rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't know. I was passed out! Did you get a glimpse of whatever animal you done pulverized, Buck?"

Buck shrugged, his dumbass brow furrowed in confusion. "Looked like a dog, whatever it was. I was uh, not exactly _stone_-_cold_ sober. Sorry, Allen."

"Eh, were I in your place, I woulda had a few, too."

"Alright. Gents?" Raynor stood up, trying to hide his confusion. "I don't think you hit anyone's … dog, but a truck ain't no reason to get worked up and try to kill somebody. I expect four hundred credits outta the pair of you." He glared at them, daring one of them to make a move. The only movement was Buck gulping when Raynor's hand accidentally brushed near the holster of his pistol. _Whoops. Thank God they already think I'm some kinda badass psycho._

"Alright. Good. I'll look into this, uh, "dog," incident," said Jim, before deciding to show some mercy. "I can send for a ride for the pair of you to go back home if you want. Free of charge."

"Aw, thanks, Jimmy!" The two of them walked up to Jim and shook his hand, apparently grateful to be left with all of their limbs intact.

"Just wait there, gotta call this-" Jim was cut off by his radio on his bike suddenly blaring to life with the Magistrate's voice - the very man he was about to contact in any case. _Impatient today, boss?_ "Hang on." He rushed back to his Vulture. "Raynor here!"

"Marshal Raynor," came the gravelly reply of the new Magistrate, fresh in from the Core. "May I have your exact location?"

_I'll never get over the way this guy speaks. _"Still at Ray's bar near Backwater, commander. Just figured it all out – they've cooled off some, and are gonna pay Ray."

"Wonderful," said the Magistrate in tones that said he didn't care. "Don't bother bringing them in – it was made clear to me that these disputes were commonplace enough. Tell me, have you seen any strange air activity nearby?"

"Air activity?" Jim frowned, thinking. "No, can't think of anything. Only thing I saw flying was a Confederate dropship a few hours back. Something up?"

"Scans reported a ship with an unknown profile and signature touch down near Backwater in one of the wastelands, close to where Lester's supply truck was bound," said the Magistrate. "The truck never arrived at its intended destination. We tracked the vessel trajectory, and I'm sending you the coordinates. I suspect these two incidences might be related. Find out what happened to the truck, and find this unknown vessel if you can. Chau Sara's been locked down by the Confederacy and I have no idea why, but I'll be damned if I let the same happen here. Nothing can slip through, do you understand, Marshal Raynor?"

"Oh yeah," said Jim, now straddling his Vulture. "Missing truck, unknown craft, a few square miles to cover. Sounds fun. I'll let you know what I find."

"Excellent," said the Magistrate, his tone genuine this time. "Stay safe, Marshal. Proceed with caution."

The Vulture's engine roared to life, the repulsors flaring up as Jim seated himself more comfortably. _Guess this Magistrate ain't as much of an asshole as I thought; he doesn't want the Confederacy poking around here any more than I do._

Jim revved the engines and then saluted the two awed hicks while turning the Vulture towards the road.

"You boys keep safe now!" Jim yelled over the ruckus. "I'll send someone to pick you two up – and make sure to PAY RAY. I'll be seein' ya."

The Vulture's engines roared as Jim sped off, heedless of any reaction the two men might have given. It was just him and the open road, heading towards a known set of coordinates and a possible unknown vessel. _I wonder what the hell they coulda hit? _Jim kept his eyes peeled and watched the terrain carefully, scanning for movement. _Never seen anything like that. _

His mind did not linger long on the bus conundrum, however. The road called, and Jim answered. Haunting memories and lingering doubts hovered at the edge of his mind like moths 'round a streetlight, but they couldn't touch him when he had this much open space to work with.

_Could be worse, really. Could be worse._

Half an hour later, Jim was closing on his destination. The only sign of any human habitation was the road, still stretching endlessly into the horizon. To the west was Jim's destination – Belcher's Pass, from which Jim could see a thick column of smoke emerging from.

_That might be the truck. Shit…_

Ready for anything, Jim drove his bike into the pass.

The pass wound about, the rocks hugging far too close by to the Vulture for Jim's liking. Past the thrum of the engines there was only dead silence, and past the familiar orange stone of Belcher's Pass there was only the smoke to look at. _Did Lester get drunk, crash here, and set fire to the truck in an inebriated attempt to dispose of the evidence?_ Jim had already had enough of drunken Mar Sara shenanigans for one day. He rounded the last bend.

Before him ... what the hell was before him? It was made of metal, belching smoke, and looked boxy. It was only the faintly visible rear engines that keyed Jim off - this was the craft he was looking for. He didn't recognize the low and flat design, but guessed from his own experiences back in the armed forces that it had probably been designed for short space travel and atmospheric flight. There were several symbols printed on the top of the craft, but Jim didn't recognize them. They didn't look like any language he had ever seen.

"Huh." Jim spat to the side of the Vulture, peppering a dry canyon wall with moisture before powering the bike off. Now the only sounds he could hear were flames and the whistling of wind through the pass. He turned on his radio.

"Commander, I've located the craft. I, uh, I don't recognize it. Want me to get a closer look?"

"Do it, Marshal," replied the Magistrate. "Any sign of Lester or his truck?"

"That's a big negatory, commander. No sign of 'em. Movin' in close. Feel free to rustle up a posse and send them in after me if you don't hear from me again. Raynor out." Jim sighed as he stepped off his bike, rolling his shoulders. _This could be big. _He pulled his pistol out of his holster. _Not any bigger than me, though. Time to man up._

Jim proceeded slowly towards the craft, both hands on the pistol. The wind blew, making the canyon howl. As Jim got closer, he thought he could see a door, covered in dents…

Something rustled behind him. On reflex, Jim spun around, gun at the ready.

"What the-" Jim cut himself off with his own gunshots, the pistol reporting twice. The _thing_ went flying backwards, colliding with a rock jutting out of the ground. It looked brown, scaly, alien … and dog sized. Jim could suddenly hear rustling all around him. _It didn't come alone._ Not bothering to turn around again, he sprinted for his Vulture in a cold sweat.

When Jim reached the bike he almost collided with it, and he winced as he dragged his knee across part of the plating as he slowed himself. He lifted himself on to the seat and activated the engines with all speed with one hand, trained his gun on the numerous forms now approaching him with the other.

_Now where the hell did all these little bastards come from?_

Jim reversed around the bend and away from the smoking alien craft and the little critters, activating the grenade mounted to the side of the Vulture. _Don't have to be too precise … hopefully this won't cause too much rockfall._ With his pistol in one hand and the other on the grenade launcher's trigger button, Jim waited.

He didn't have to wait long. The first of the critters launched itself around the corner, almost skidding in the dirt. Jim calmly nailed it with his pistol, sending the creature pinwheeling. _Not gonna waste a pineapple on just one._ Two more came around, their screeches echoing through the pass. They both ate a bullet.

_Not a bad killzone._ Jim checked behind himself and the bike to make certain he wasn't being snuck up on. _Nope. Pretty stupid critters._

Five of them emerged in a veritable dog-pile from around the corner. Jim pressed the button.

With a sharp crack, the grenade made direct contact with one of the critters. Pebbles fell from either side of the rock walls as the bizarre little bastards were pulverized by the grenade, one of them flying forward and landing almost by Raynor's feet. It lay there, twitching and steaming ever so slightly.

After waiting for another minute, Jim thought it was clear there weren't going to be any more. He stepped off his bike but left it on, in case of another emergency. He examined the barely alive creature by his feet, toeing it with his boot.

"Spiky little bastard, aren't ya?" Where it wasn't burnt and black, the creature's skin was hard and brown. Its eyes gleamed a malevolent piss yellow, and its mouth opened slightly to reveal a set of sharp serrated teeth. Two appendages emerged from behind the front legs, terminating in sharpened blades.

"Ugly sucker." Jim finished it off with his last pistol round, fumbling for a fresh clip after emptying his spent casings into the Mar Sara soil. When he was done reloading, he grimaced as a fresh breeze filled his nostrils with the smell of fresh alien gore.

Jim was tempted to just report in to the Magistrate and then have done with Belcher's Pass, but he wasn't going to let go of that craft – it was definitely alien. Plus, the opposition's performance so far hadn't exactly filled him with overwhelming confidence in regards to their ability.

Jim retraced his steps, faced the wreckage, and examined it closely. No sign of movement other than the billowing smoke. He lightly jogged to where he had stood before. There had indeed been a dented sliding door, still sealed shut.

Jim strode up to it, and then suddenly ran out of ideas. _Can't exactly blow it open._ The ship still coughed thick and dark smoke into the air from its front, but there was no sign of fire from within the vessel itself. Shrugging, he raised a hand and knocked on the metal as hard as he dared.

The door immediately and swiftly slid open, and Jim suddenly found a gun barrel pointed in his face, trained on his temple.

"Shit." Jim immediately dropped his own weapon and raised his hands. Though it was rather hard to focus past the gun barrel, he could see the creature beyond – blue armor, and a face like … like an alien. _Head crest, something like scales, bird-like eyes … yeah, no chance in hell that this is some genetic mutant_. _Wonderful._

The alien's expression betrayed no friendliness while a cut on its head weeped blue blood. Still, its aim did not waver. When it spoke, its voice had a strange "flange" to it, as if it had another half-set of vocal chords chiming in when it spoke. It wasn't speaking English.

Jim pondered his options. _Well, he ain't shot me yet. That's a plus. But he looks pretty pissed. That's a negative. And his ship looks pretty wrecked … I'd say this guy is having a pretty bad day, and that certainly don't spell anything bright for mine._

"Hey," said Jim, trying to put on a friendly but casual tone. The alien did not look amused, saying something again in its strange tongue. It began gesturing with its gun, jerking it forward.

"Alright, alright. I'm walking back. Easy there." Jim was not happy to be walking away from his dropped gun, but the alien was in charge for the time being. It dropped from the lip of the craft and took a step toward Jim. It yelled something else and then turned its gun twice to the left.

"I ain't turning around."

When the alien saw that Jim was uncooperative, it yelled again, and then made a recognizable gesture for Raynor to kneel.

"I ain't kneelin' neither. You ain't from around here, are you…?"

The alien made a recognizable growling noise and took another step toward Raynor. Jim tensed … and then heard a much less recognizable sound, halfway between a low growl and horrible hissing.

"Mother of God…" A snakelike creature, orange eyes alive with malice, slithered to the top of the craft. It peered down at them with a glee alive in its slit pupils, uncoiling itself on top of the craft and revealing its extraordinary height. The gun-wielding alien turned, yelled what was probably some kind of alien swear word, and opened fire.

Jim wasted no time and ran forward, diving for his gun. He felt for the pistol grip, found it, and brought himself up with his gun already sighted.

The alien had retreated inside the craft while the … snakemantis, had vanished. Jim could hear it though, and suddenly the craft rocked as metal screeched on metal. Jim could see inside the ship, and looked just in time to see the metal be violently peeled away.

"Jesus…"

This thing was _strong._ The alien opened fire on the snakemantis, cratering its face. Then, all too suddenly for Jim's liking, the gun wielding alien's weapon let out a surge of steam and a beep. The alien looked down at its weapon and uttered another probably curse word, much more quietly this time. The snakemantis, hissing with what might have been laughter for all Jim knew, pushed its slightly mangled head through the hole it had made, great flaps suddenly opening to either side of its face. Jim brought his revolver to bear and aligned the sights just as it lowered its head…

The first round took the creature in the face, but the impact only seemed to stun it, even as red blood coated its long face. The second punctured one of the flaps, causing it to thrash in pain as it spurted fluid. The third missed and punched a hole through a crate in the vessel. The fourth and fifth nailed the other flap. And the sixth … must have hit something important.

The creature shuddered before collapsing lifeless, its head dangling inside the ship. Blood dripped from the holes made in its face and flaps, its expression still caught in a rictus of rage and confusion.

_Even in death that thing still looks like it's going to eat us._

Jim looked up into an alien gun barrel again, but this time it wavered slightly. One of the alien's arms now clasped its side, while the other held on to the rifle as best it could. _Got injured in the ruckus? What now?_

Jim looked into the creature's eyes, waiting for the verdict. The creature failed to give one, instead coughing up some more blue liquid before collapsing into a seat. The expression it gave Jim seemed mixed of defiance ... and fear.

Jim looked to his pistol, back to the snakemantis, and then back to the alien. _Could call in back up or finish this myself easy enough … _He took another look at the vile corpse, particularly the beast's expression. _…But I could tell you easily which of these two creatures I'm more worried about_.

Jim ran back to his Vulture, turned on the radio.

"This is Jimmy. You copy, commander?"

"I hear you, Mister Raynor," said the Magistrate, sounding relieved. "What have you found?"

"The vessel is alien, commander. I need an immediate militia set up, and an airlift outta here. I got a wounded alien I'd like to have treated and some dead ones we oughta study," said Jim, letting out a stream of air before continuing. "We got alien activity out here, commander. We got alien activity like you wouldn't believe."

"I am sending a dropship your way, Mister Raynor. ETA five minutes." _Well, you don't sound terribly surprised._ "Any sign of Lester's truck?"

"Well hell, commander," said Jim, thinking of the critters he had encountered so far, "I can think of all kinds of things that mighta happened to it."


	5. The Conclave's Decree

**Tassadar**

Judicator Aldaris had not delayed a second upon hearing what Tassadar had seen. The Arbiter vessel warped in from Aiur in a surprisingly prompt four hours, the vessel cloaking Tassadar's lonely Expeditionary Fleet from unwanted eyes, which was to say, all eyes that were not protoss. For this, Tassadar felt duly thankful.

_The minds of these Judicators tend to meander when there is an opportunity to debate policy. One must wonder whether they designed their vessels to incapacitate our enemies just to buy more time for argument. _

"Executor Tassadar," came the voice of Aldaris, resonating through the Khala for all of the fleet to hear. "The Conclave has not yet had time to convene regarding your recent actions. They have deemed me worthy to present to you their will, and thus the will of all protoss."

_Typical rambling nonsense. _Tassadar looked again at all the readings before him. Only a handful of the enemy ships had survived Tassadar's retaliation, limping away using some primitive means. Tassadar had briefly considered capturing a handful of their escape pods that the fleeing ships had left behind like so much trailing blood, but he possessed neither the facilities nor much inclination beyond basic curiosity to do so. It was still no excuse to be merciless, however, and Tassadar ordered the pods destroyed rather than leave the beings within to slowly freeze or suffocate.

_Even then, there was little fear from our foe. Only a sense of defiance … and a desire for retribution. Far more disciplined than the terrans._

"I hear you, Judicator," replied Tassadar from aboard the _Gantrithor_, also allowing the rest of the fleet to hear. "The alien device has displaced our grand fleet, thrusting us into conflict with a new alien threat. A carrier was lost, though the enemy was otherwise driven back without cost."

"Executor, though the Conclave has not yet convened, they urged me to remind you of the wisdom imparted by the xel'naga, who promised to return to us when they deemed us ready," said Aldaris, sounding as if he were reciting holy scripture rather than a simple reminder. _Which is in some ways true. _"To tamper with the great devices they constructed within the stars is heresy. They remain inactive until such a time that they might be used for the grand purpose they hinted at. What say you?"

_A new alien race has been discovered and has promptly engaged this fleet, yet the Conclave remain only concerned about contact with supposed "heresy" rather than the war that yet brews. It may have been a mistake to contact them … but Aiur must be protected._

"This device was already active, and any contact this grand fleet might have had with it was without intention," said Tassadar. "We were in position to begin purging Chau Sara of the zerg, but were distracted by an unexpected terran recovery vessel. While in pursuit, the device transported us … here." _Adun, forgive this fool if he holds us here for any longer than necessary. These are unfamiliar stars, and we do not know what further horrors they may hold._

"Executor, the readings from my vessel indicate that these devices are using a tremendous amount of energy. Furthermore, our Observers tell me that the other end is active. It would seem that you have opened a new entrance into the Koprulu sector that would otherwise be blocked by a tremendous expanse of empty space," said Aldaris, sounding slightly surprised. "Your first encounter with these aliens – how did it come to such swift conflict?"

"They opened fire when we arrived on this side," replied Tassadar. "Their weapons proved mostly ineffective, although one of them saw fit to ram a carrier while we continued to close the distance." _That honorless scavenger terran only escaped sudden destruction due to the limited range of our interceptors. Never again._ "I will stress that while these beings fell back before our onslaught, we failed to rout them. What we witnessed was an organized retreat-"

"I find little reason to discuss this matter further. The Kalath Intercession taught us not to interfere in the affairs of lesser creatures, barring of course incidences such as these. It seems you were not in contravention, and thus, the Conclave will find no fault," said Aldaris, bringing Tassadar some relief. "However, your actions have jeopardized the safety of Aiur, and by extension our very existence. While the Conclave will have little interest in the conquest of … this place … our safety must be insured. The Koprulu Expeditionary Fleet's mission parameters must shift to accommodate this folly."

"This fleet was assigned to control the spread of the zerg!" said Tassadar, feeling cold rage coalescing within. "They are _consuming _the terrans! They are unlike-"

"Control yourself, Executor," Aldaris said, clearly unperturbed. "The infestation on Chau Sara and Mar Sara will be contained. It appears your delayed purification of the two planets has proven an unexpected boon. You and your forces are to take the two planets and establish forward bases. This bridgehead between Koprulu space and … this place … must be policed. Nothing must be permitted to come through. Evict the terrans and zerg through any means you see fit, and then hold until we can determine an appropriate leader to hold the line in your absence. Once this is done, you may continue hunting the zerg. Such is the will of the Conclave. I take my leave."

Tassadar gazed out at the stars, watching the Arbiter vanish into warp space and once again revealing the Expeditionary Fleet. _Uncharacteristically prompt of them. Perhaps the Conclave is more surprised by this then they are letting on._

The minds of Tassadar's fellow Khalai hummed within the Khala, some with excitement, some with indignation, and many with concern. _Our first encounter with these aliens left us short a carrier. While their armament was unimpressive, they showed no fear. Their numbers may very well be great, but this Expeditionary Fleet must hold against them regardless._

_There is no reason to delay._

"All ships!" bellowed Tassadar, voice echoing through the minds of his followers. "This is your Executor. We are warping back to Chau Sara immediately and beginning our assault. All terran vessels that fire on us are to be destroyed. All zerg organisms must also be destroyed." _No mercy for those devils. The Dae'Uhl does not extend to such vile creatures. _"We must secure all significant mineral and Vespene deposits to prepare for the assault on Mar Sara and the continued occupation of this space. We must strike now, for Aiur! For Adun!"

United by purpose and the Khala, the ships entered warp space as one, their silhouettes fading quickly into the stars. Tassadar immersed himself in the Khala, hearing the thrumming of many hearts, the caress of many minds. _The Conclave stirs. Templars gather in ranks before our great temples in preparation for the onslaught. But Aiur remains peaceful. The wind still blows. The Bengalaas still hunt. Soft grass still coats fertile soil._

_May it remain so._

The jump took several minutes, far longer than Tassadar was used to experiencing. Stars whirred past at a dizzying speed, and some among the fleet had begun to wonder if something had gone wrong and they were hurtling through empty space, perhaps destined to collide with a distant star.

Their fears were assuaged when they arrived, scouts, carriers, and Mothership intact, to Char Sara. Tassadar looked from the helm and unto the surface, and was displeased.

Large patches of the planet crawled with zerg, coated in the strange purple surface the beasts spread wherever they went. Fires leapt from terran settlements, visible even from orbit. A sizeable terran fleet fired upon spacefaring zerg indiscriminately while raining drop pods on the dusty surface.

_The infestation has spread further. Perhaps the Conclave was right to order its immediate incineration. By waiting for the terrans to more fully evacuate, I may have only endangered more lives._

"Executor!" cried Arassar from his own carrier. "The zerg have almost overwhelmed the terrans and conquered this planet! How shall we intervene?"

_This will be the first time since the Kalath Intercession that the High Templar will find themselves fighting lesser races on distant worlds. My first instinct upon seeing this corruption is to burn it … yet that could cause only further carnage should a horde of aliens fall upon us from the xel'naga's device. _

_Adun guide us!_

"The terrans are fighting hard, their cities still defended," said Tassadar. "However, the zerg's foulness must be cleansed. Udun, prepare the Mothership for planetary bombardment. Wherever you see the zerg pestilence blighting the landscape without any terran presence, purge it. All other ships, close distance. I will be designating warp zones for our troops. It is imperative we establish a planetside presence as quickly as possible. For Aiur!"

"For Aiur" rebounded through the minds of every protoss within the fleet. Their ships crossed the span of space quickly, Chau Sara becoming ever larger in their line of vision. Their ships stopped just outside the atmosphere, close enough to the nearby terran fleet for Tassadar to consider it dangerous.

_Perhaps it might be prudent to contact their leader and inform them of our intention…_

Tassadar pondered this a moment, watching the distant explosions and laser fire. _No … I think not. The terrans are not as foul as the zerg, yet they are just as unwanted and unnatural. They will stand aside or be swept aside. There is no time for further mercy or compromise._

"Establishing warp zones near resource deposits and strategic hardpoints." Tassadar brought up a planetary display of the map, complete with registers for aerial threats, with the zerg currently in the lead through sheer volume. _They established themselves quickly. A worthy feat for such despicable beings. _Tassadar noted the stream of refugee traffic from the besieged terran settlements, and vowed to try and stay as clear of the innocents as he could. He tapped several viable areas and collapsed the map.

"Warp zones designated. Dispatch probes and ground troops. Establish warp beacons for our structures. This world belongs to the Templar now!"

Tassadar saw small protoss signatures appear all over the planet, warped directly from the fleet and on to the surface. This pleased him, but he wanted a closer look at the planet himself.

"Selak!" Tassadar boomed. "You are in command of the _Gantrithor_. I want to walk on this planet's surface."

Tassadar removed himself from the command seat, leaving his second to take his place.

"Take me to the western hemisphere hardpoint – the base close to the largest zerg hive."

Light surrounded Tassadar and he vanished from sight as the teleporter activated, sending him rushing through space. He passed the atmosphere, the zerg, and materialized without issue on the soil of Chau Sara.

The Templar greeted their commander thunderously as he arrived. Tassadar took in all he could see, and was pleased.

A Nexus, its gold and pyramidal exterior shimmering in the sunlight made the Khala hum with energy. Several pylons now littered the area, hovering over the dust, their crystalline surfaces reflecting the distant flames of burning zerg colonies and terran cities. He saw probes hover towards them, warp beacons gripped firmly and ready for placement. _More buildings on the way, good. __These skies will soon be buzzing with protoss craft_.

The hardpoint lay seated atop a barren mesa overlooking the nearby zerg hive. Tassadar could see the corruption from over the mesa's edge – distant tendrils of some massive zerg organism, the hundreds of winged zerg creatures, and lazier, apparently docile creatures gently propelling themselves from the air.

_Burn them all._

"Udun, begin cleansing this planet of the zerg hive clusters," said Tassadar, flexing his fingers. "I am sickened at the very sight of them."

"For Aiur!" said Udun. A blue beam descended from the heavens, engulfing the many zerg and filling the air with joyous light. Behind him, Tassadar could hear structures warping in.

_Satisfaction._

Tassadar let his psionic energy buoy him up, his feet now floating inches from the soil. He turned to his assembled warriors who still gazed at the Mothership's beam in awe.

"Templar! It is not enough that we burn the enemy wherever they might nest," declared Tassadar. "They invade the homes of these terrans and twist them to better suit their foul purposes. This base is ready; it can stand without us! Let us take the fight to the streets of the terran colonies. Cut down anyone who stand before us! Khassar de templari!"

The Mothership beam had ceased, leaving only scorched earth where the zerg had once stood. Shuttles were quickly prepped by the Expeditionary Fleet and sent to them. Tassadar saw them loaded and entered one himself, floating among the eager zealots.

The shuttle took off, headed for the nearest besieged settlement. Tassadar could feel the raw rage and excitement of the many Templar under his command, each feeding off the other.

"At last!" proclaimed one from within his shuttle, his mind alive with excitement, his heavy armor gleaming in the dim light of the shuttle. "Finally we can meet these wretches in glorious combat! To see them burn from afar is not unsatisfying, but true honor comes with meeting hated enemies on the field of battle! Slaughtering these creatures should prove a challenge!"

"Remain steady, Templar," said Tassadar, clamping his right hand on the zealot's shoulder, both thumbs digging into the shoulder plate. "Do not let your thirst for glory overcome your caution. And be weary, for we may come to blows with the terrans as well." _In fact, I would consider that inevitable._ _The pink-faced fools are both aggressive and short-sighted._

"What fear could we feel with the mighty Tassadar commanding us?" asked the zealot, looking up at Tassadar, making his nerve cords rustle against the side of the craft as he shifted his head. "I worry only that we reach the battleground too late, and find it devoid of foes!"

_Such brazen enthusiasm. _Tassadar could not help but feel it too, a battle rage taking hold through the Khala. _If we felt fear, we would not be Templar. _

The shuttle beeped twice, and the other protoss began disappearing, having been warped groundside. Tassadar was the last one out, emerging on the other end in time to see the shuttle flee from zerg air organisms.

The terran settlement had been almost completely destroyed by the fighting. What buildings that remained consisted of deformed steel and exposed rebar poking up from concrete rubble. The infantry and artillery the terrans were so fond of had fought the zerg ground assault to a standstill, their kinetic weapons leaving the ground coated in scaly corpses. Looking up, however, it became clear that the zerg owned the skies - everywhere Tassadar looked, the only thing to be seen were leathery wings and multifaceted eyes. Pockets of resistance could be glimpsed among the spread out buildings – muzzle flashes and explosions chiefly – but otherwise only burning buildings and fresh zerg could be seen … and many of those zerg now turned to Tassadar and his warriors.

"For Ai-" began a zealot, cut off suddenly by Tassadar raising a glowing hand.

"No. Hold."

The zerg rushed them, smaller organisms sprinting on four legs, larger ones on a single tail, and a few massive ones whose appendages were obscured by scythes. Tassadar took it all in, feeling indignation and rage pour in from the Khala as he and his Templar took in the sight. Tassadar could feel the power throbbing within his hearts, electricity alive inside his veins.

_Now._

Psionic energy crackled over the zerg as Tassadar let the full extent of his wrath be known. Zerg erupted into fountains of blood, their hard carapaces stripped away by the raw power. The handful of fliers that accompanied them shrieked, twisted, and fell, torn from the heavens. The first line of zerg crumbled before him.

"Reavers! Now!"

Explosive scarabs erupted from the Reavers, floating with precision toward the swiftly advancing zerg. With a flare and a distant boom, the second line of zerg collapsed, their innards hard to see amidst the dull pink dust of the planet. A sense of satisfaction fell on Tassadar, only dimming when he saw a nearby terran building collapse inward on itself, the scarab proving too much for it. _It would not do to anger the terrans too early. The bulk of the zerg are distracted by them, and we do not yet have the planetside resources needed to defeat them without difficulty._

"Reavers! Cease fire!" A handful of Reavers had already fired their second scarabs, but the others stopped. Tassadar watched them again float toward their enemy before exploding forcefully, taking a large chunk out of nearby terran structures, some of which caught fire.

"Templars! Forward!" _Fenix, my friend, if only you were here for this._

The zealots bounded toward the enemy, overseen from behind by the still floating Tassadar. Their legs pounded the soil as their armor clanked almost rhythmically. From the back ranks, the mighty Dragoons opened fire with their plasma batteries, toasting many zerg with their firepower, leaving behind only charred skeletons.

They closed the distance in seconds. Zealot met zerg in brutal combat, their psi blades quickly cutting a path through the smaller beasts.

Some of the larger creatures opened flaps and began to dispense some kind of projectile - spines as thick and long as Tassadar's fingers, flung at tremendous speeds. Tassadar judged this most cunning, and rewarded their intelligence with psionic energy, sending a pulse through them that cooked their insides. Battle was truly joined.

"Executor!" called Udun from his Mothership above. "We have cleansed the surface of the worst of the infestation, but the cowardly terrans have abandoned the fight altogether! Their fleet has jumped away and the zerg are regrouping! We-"

Udun stopped speaking abruptly, sending a wave of dismay through the Khala. Tassadar retreated slightly, letting the zealots run amok within enemy lines. _There is little that can stop them._

"Udun. Udun?"

"The ancient device has activated! Dozens of enemy ships have arrived and are heading for Chau Sara!" cried Udun. "They bear similar markings to the ones we have already faced. Tassadar, what would you have us do?"

_We have no time for this. The zerg must be expunged from this place!_

"Burn them," said Tassadar. "Let them feel the wrath of the Firstborn. Disengage from the zerg – leave them to us. Let not a single ship escape you! En taro Adun!"


	6. Rangers Roll

**James**

Jim Raynor watched the Magistrate pace in his office of gleaming wood and red carpet, clearly agitated. The vidscreen on the wall was still covered in static – whoever this "old and trusted friend" of the Magistrate's was, he certainly did not seem as available as the Magistrate had made him out to be. Jim was getting a kick out of seeing his uptight boss work himself up.

"He's never done this before," said the Magistrate after an uncomfortable two minutes, glaring at the static as if that would somehow clear it up. "Ever since I've known him he's been prompt and capable. Might be the poor reception out here on the fringes – my office back in Mar Sara City never had any kind of issue. I can't imagine what would-"

The static cleared abruptly, revealing a man wearing a black CMC suit, visor down. When he spoke, it was through a vocoder, leaving Jim to wonder exactly what kind of circles the Magistrate used to run with.

"This isn't a good time," came the distorted voice of the marine. "I've got two minutes at the most before-"

There was a flash of orange from the vidscreen, partially illuminating the face underneath the helmet, though all Jim could see was a nose. The Magistrate's contact turned away and yelled something hard to discern to someone off-screen. Jim could hear the faint wailing of klaxons and sirens… and screaming. He could hear screaming.

"Oleg, where the hell are you?" asked the Magistrate, sounding concerned but not surprised. When Oleg paused, the Magistrate shook his head and chuckled. "Ah, sorry. James Raynor here is a Confederate marshal. I hold him in confidence. Anything under Class 5 should be safe."

"Lips are sealed, boys," said Jim, nodding.

"I'm on Chau Sara," said Oleg, his warped voice coming quickly through the vocoder. "We've got hostiles and the situation is out of control. Local defense forces have been overwhelmed, and High Command wants us gone. Expect Duke – he's headed your way now. Mar Sara will shortly be under lockdown."

The Magistrate chewed on that for a moment, looking unamused. Jim, for his part, was not looking forward to dealing with the herd of disgruntled miners and ex-soldiers who would no doubt object to the government butting in on their business.

"This got to do with these aliens?" asked Jim, who wanted answers for what happened at Belcher's Pass, damn the clearance.

"We've had an incident," the Magistrate quickly cut in. "We have extra-terrestrial life both under custody and autopsy. Oleg, we need answers, and we need them fast."

"Custody? How the hell…?" Oleg looked to his right as there was another flash of light, blue this time. He rose quickly from the screen afterwards, and Jim saw several marines rush by behind him. The background filled with the sounds of gauss rifles discharging. "I've got to go. Expect Duke, set up a curfew, and _don't let your people travel alone._ Wish me luck."

The screen went dead. Jim looked to the Magistrate, who was wiping sweat from his brow. When he sat at his desk, his hands were clenched, his knuckles white.

"They're going to put this planet – _my planet_ – under lockdown," said the Magistrate. "And your alien is going to be sent to some core world R&amp;D department to be dissected – but he'll be safer than we're about to be."

"What makes you say that, commander?" asked Jim.

"I know how the Confederacy works," said the Magistrate, eyes staring intensely at the vid screen. "I've met Duke, and I've known Oleg for years. This is the first time I've seen the man… perturbed."

"He didn't seem all that fearful," said Jim. "Just seemed focused. Hell, if I were in that kind of firefight, I wouldn't have had time to answer a call – and if I did, I woulda been screamin' at the screen."

"You don't know Oleg," insisted the Magistrate, "and Duke leads Alpha Squadron. They don't send those gentlemen on just any mission. Mar Sara is about to either become a military stronghold… or a battlef- oh, what now?"

The Magistrate's phone rang, angering the man further. He pressed the speaker button.

"Yes, I am here, what?"

"Uh, sir, Backwater Station just sent out a distress signal," said a male voice. "All comms are down, but we got some kinda garbled message about weird lookin' animals. You got Jimmy with you?"

"This is Jimmy," said Raynor. "I'll be right over."

The Magistrate killed the line. "These people trust you more than they do me, Raynor."

"I been their marshal for a while, commander. You'll grow on 'em." _Once you talk like a regular person. Or maybe spend some time with 'em down in the dirt._

The Magistrate coughed. "Yes… well. I suspect those creatures you encountered at Belcher's Pass are responsible for our little situation here. Tell me, have you ever had to form a militia here before?"

Jim closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "Nah, can't say I have. Shouldn't be that hard, though."

The Magistrate looked intrigued. "You got an army in your pocket, Raynor?"

Jim looked into his boss' pale and drawn face and smiled. "Walk with me for a minute."

Jim gestured, and his boss followed him out of his office and to the secretary's desk. The secretary rose when they arrived, adjusting his dirty round glasses as he did.

"Sir, Jimmy, good to see you both," he said. "What we doin' 'bout Backwater?"

Jim looked him over. "You're Michael Callum, right? You served during the Guild Wars?"

"Uh, yeah, Jimmy," said Callum, sounding a little confused but still proud. "I was with the 44th, 'bout 100 hours of active combat."

"You still got your suit and gun?" asked Jim.

"Hell yeah!" said Michael. "Why you ask?"

Jim glanced at the Magistrate and saw his surprised expression before replying. "I'm puttin' together a little militia to go out and liberate Backwater from the alien menace. You interested?"

Callum grinned. "Been lookin' for an excuse to put that suit on and fire the ol' C14. Count me in, Jim! Uh, assuming…?" Callum looked to his boss.

"Yes, uh," the Magistrate was clearly bewildered that his secretary was a former marine. "By all means. Go ahead."

"Lemme suit up. I'll find you in a bit, Jim." Callum took off, leaving the desk unoccupied.

Jim grinned at the Magistrate who watched his secretary leave with brow furrowed.

"You got a problem with combat-ready secretaries, commander?" asked Jim, resisting the urge to wink.

"Don't patronize me, marshal," said the Magistrate, grumpy. "It might not be best to tell people that there are… aliens, running amok."

"Well hell, with them running amok, I figure we may as well be honest, seeing as they're bound to find out anyhow," said Jim, winking this time.

The Magistrate glared at Jim. "How many washed up soldiers do you intend on impressing into service, marshal?"

"Impressin'?" Jim shook his head. "I'm only takin' volunteers. Most of these folk, they done enough fightin' for one lifetime. But if they want to throw down for the sake of their homes and families, I say let 'em."

The Magistrate looked incredulously at Jim. "You can't possibly think you'll find enough people willing to put on suits and head all the way to Backwater to fight aliens?"

_Sir, how the hell can you say that sentence and not realize how fun that sounds?_

"Oh, I don't know," said Jim, trying not to let any contempt bleed through into his voice. "Let's just ring the town hall bell and see who's willing."

So Jim did just that, climbing the stairs up to the tower's bell tower. The Magistrate waited, scowling in the town square as Jim pulled on the bell's rope and set it clanging. The sun was starting to set, so most folk were still up, but Jim couldn't help but worry how much more difficult it would be to fight in the dark.

_If Backwater's in trouble, I ain't waiting to save 'em. I just hope I ain't wasting more lives by tryin' to do so._

When Jim saw from the tower that a big enough crowd had gathered in front of the Magistrate, he descended the steps again, heart pounding in his chest.

The Magistrate had brought his podium out and readied the microphone. When he saw Jim edging across the corners of the crowd, he beckoned him over. Jim jogged up to the stage, where the Magistrate whispered into his ear.

"I confess that my standing with these people is perhaps not as strong as yours," he said quietly. "There may also be, ah, communication difficulties…"

Jim pulled away and nodded. "Right. Yeah. 'Cause you don't talk like regular people."

The corners of the Magistrate's lips twitched. "Yes, I, uh, do not know how to speak like you. If you would be so kind…" The Magistrate stepped away, gesturing to the podium. Jim stepped up to it, adjusted the microphone, and looked at the sea of curious and inebriated faces.

_Christ, we even emptied the bars. These people must be bored as hell._

"Howdy, folks," said Jim with a little wave. "Ya'll know me, I'm Jim Raynor, marshal of these parts."

From the back of the crowd came a muted call of, "We love you Jimmy!"

Jim coughed and tried to hide his smile. "Right, well, anyway. Earlier today I went out around the wastelands lookin' for Lester and his truck. What I found were a crashed alien ship in Belcher's Pass, surrounded by a boatload of pissed off critters. Mar Sara got an alien problem."

Aside from someone sneezing in the back, the crowd was silent.

"Now, just a few minutes ago, me and the commander got a report that Backwater Station was under attack, and that there was somethin' 'bout strange critters. I ain't a gamblin' man… anymore… but I would be willin' to put a bet that Backwater's under alien attack. Now, mighty ya'll know me to be, but I'm just one man. Maybe ya'll came here for peace and quiet, to get away from fightin'. I know I'm one of them,but you know what? It don't matter to these things. These aliens are settin' to disturb that peace and quiet, and it's up to us to silence them… in a hail of gunfire, if need be. I'm willin' to go it alone, but I know we've got born fighters all over this fine planet. I'm askin' them to step up, and do what they know is right. Who's with me?"

There was a storm of cheers and hooting. Without even asking them to do anything, half the crowd formed a line in front of the podium, the people in the front asking where they could "sign up."

Bemused, Jim sidled up to his horrified boss. "Looks like we got a few takers."

"You just recruited _half_ of Rushtown!" said the Magistrate, looking slightly horrified.

Jim looked back at the line. "Hell, I knew they'd do the right thing."

"I thought the problem would be _finding_ people willing, not just sorting the volunteers!" the Magistrate replied, continually glancing at the veritable crowd pushing toward Jimmy, clamoring for his attention.

"Welcome to Mar Sara, commander."

The Magistrate's words proved truer than expected. The line was large, but the number of candidates actually eligible to head out to Backwater somewhat less so. Some were already too inebriated, while a few still sported old war injuries that rendered them unfit. Of those who were hale and sober, many of them had sold their gun and combat armor for assorted reasons. The Magistrate claimed that he had several on standby, but those were quickly exhausted.

"I run a poor planet," observed the Magistrate after the fifth volunteer who needed a CMC suit was sent away. "I can't think of any former soldiers in the Core who would have sold their suit. I thought mining was supposed to be lucrative?"

"Sure is," said Jim. "Assumin' you're the foreman. Next!"

Buck walked up to the two of them, grinning his gap toothed smile. The Magistrate looked appalled at the sight of him, but Jim just returned his happy expression.

"Howdy, Buck. You and Allen enjoy your ride back?"

"You know it, Jimmy!" said Buck. "How the hell'd you rustle me up a dropship?"

"Events left us in a bit of a rush," Jim said, giving a sideways glance to the Magistrate. "Otherwise I woulda sent somethin' less, uh, expensive. You drunk?"

"What, you mean drunk enough to fight?" said Buck. "Sure!"

Jim tried not to shake his head. "Uh, you still own a combat suit?"

"My old firebat suit, sure. It's all juiced up and ready to go. Ya'll got a place for a pyromaniac?" Buck's grin had turned manic. Jim turned to the Magistrate who, to his surprise, gave Jim a thumbs up.

"Alright, sure, you're in," said Jim, hoping he wouldn't regret this. "Just… don't drink any more then you already have. It's gonna be dark soon, and you'll need to be rock steady when you see these things."

"Sure thing, Jimmy!" said Buck before looking back and cupping a hand round his mouth. "Hey! Allen, you dumbass treadhead, you're up!"

Sure enough, Allen walked up to the podium, tipping his cap in the Magistrate's direction.

"Sir." He turned back to Jim, an excited expression on his face, "I TOLD you it was an alien, Jim!"

"Allen, you swore up and down that what your truck hit was a dog," said Jim, expression neutral.

"An ALIEN dog, Jim."

"Right," Jim looked to the rest of the line, saw it was almost done. "You got any combat experience in a suit? Cause we don't exactly got any siege tanks standin' by."

"Sure, had to rack up quite a few active service hours as a marine to get to play with the gear," said Allen. "Eighty hours, as I recall. Still got the old suit and gun. Ya'll gonna be supplyin' ammo?"

The Magistrate responded before Jim could. "Ammunition will not be a concern. I can supply you all well in that regard. Consider yourself part of Raynor's… Rangers." The Magistrate nodded, pleased with himself. Allen hooted.

"Well shit, Jim! You come up with it, or was that all sir here? That's sounds good, count me in!"

Allen strode off, trading insults with Buck (who had waited for him) as he did so.

"Raynor's Rangers, sir?" asked Jim quietly.

"What? It sounds better than Mar Sara Militia," said the Magistrate, looking pleased with himself.

"Yeah," said Jim, shifting uncomfortably. "I suppose it does. But this is just a temporary thing, sir. I don't want people signin' up for battle cause of me, and my name."

"If you say so," said the Magistrate, beckoning to the next person in line.

By the time they were finished, Raynor's Rangers consisted of 33 people, five of which were, to the Magistrate's apparent surprise, women. Most of them had already suited up, the final stragglers trudging into the town square just as the sun began to vanish in the horizon. They were ready to go. Jim and the Magistrate walked to Rushtown's official barracks together, assuring the crowd they would be back shortly.

"Before you suit up, Raynor," said the Magistrate quietly as they approached the building. "I want to talk about our friend in the clinic."

"Soldier Lizard?" Jim shrugged. "He coulda shot me in the head, commander, and he didn't. I'd consider him a step up from the critters. I was hopin' maybe…"

"Maybe…?" prompted the Magistrate.

"Hell, I don't know. A possibility of friendship?" Jim shrugged irritably. "It's just that damn language barrier gettin' in the way. Point is, I don't want anything bad happening to him. You got me? He coulda shot me, but he didn't."

"As you say, Mr. Raynor," said the Magistrate as they entered the dimly lit barracks together. "There will be no dissections, vivisections, autopsies… and so on. You have my word on it."

Jim was surprised. "You'd be willin' to keep secrets from the Confederacy?"

"You would be surprised, Mr. Raynor, at the things I am capable of," said the Magistrate with a coy smile. "I'll be in the command center back in the city, keeping in touch. I'll be sending in dropships to take you boys to the fight. Best of luck."

Jim, who was standing in place as the barrack's machinery roared to life, quickly saluted the Magistrate. "Thanks, commander. I'll be seein' ya."

Jim's armor was quickly riveted into place, his gun shoved into his hands. Soon it was done and he emerged, blinking, into the dusk.

_It's been a while since I wore this old thing. Left it disassembled, hoped I wouldn't need it… but in a way, still feels good to be reunited with it._

The crowd was waiting for him, now only consisting of people in power armor. Buck, as the sole firebat, towered over his companions, but he still gave a low whistle when he saw Jim in his armor.

"Shit, Jimmy. That's a scary ass paint job you got goin' on," he said, impressed.

Jim pounded a fist into the chest plate of his armor, which was painted as if under an x-ray, revealing the bones.

"Face plate's got a skull on it," said Jim. "You'll see it in a bit. Ya'll ready?"

"Let's do this," said Jenny, one of the few female marines, chuckling as she did so.

"Good," said Jim, who could hear the roar of the dropships in the distance. "'Cause this might get hairy."

The Rangers were all packed in tight. Jim, to his dismay, had been situated next to the gratuitously sized Buck, who was constantly chuckling from within his suit. Jim didn't bother to ask why.

"Mr. Raynor?" The Magistrate's voice crackled in through all of the suits, "I've set up a frequency for you all to use. Keep the chatter to a minimum; we don't know how bad it is yet. Light's fading fast, be careful."

"Alright boys and girls," said Jim. "Ya'll heard the man. Let's be safe and have fun. Pilot! Can I get an ETA?"

"Four minutes once we're in the air," came the reply from the cockpit. "Take-off in two. Strap yourselves in, boys."

Excitement and worry boiled in Jim's belly as they took off. _This is it. Hope to God it ain't too bad._

Jim looked to the other seven folks he would be dropping with.

"Ya'll ready for this?" he asked.

"Fuck, Jim," said Buck, "I'm gonna toast me some aliens. I already killed one with Allen's truck, how hard can these others be?"

"You killed one already?" asked Callum, sounding envious. "Jimmy, this son of a bitch is lyin' through his teeth."

"Like hell he is!" came Allen's reply from further down Jim's row of seats. "Dumbass ruined my vehicle!"

"Simmer down ladies, before I have to take ya'll to school," said Jenny before spitting on the floor of the ship. "We got aliens to kill, and no time for bickerin'."

Jim nodded to her. "Thanks, Jenny. Let's just get this done. We're almost there."

Thirty seconds after Jim said this, the rear of the dropship opened up.

"You're on the outskirts, ladies and gentlemen," said the pilot. "Time to drop."

"Fuck yeah!" yelled Buck. "Go! Go! Go!"

They all quickly unstrapped. Allen and Jenny were the first two to go, hooting as they fell twenty feet. Jim's heart was hammering, and he looked forward to the sudden plunge.

"Time to set the world on fire," growled Buck, the ship shaking as he leapt off the edge. Then it was Jim's turn, and he relished the way his stomach turned over as he jumped into the dark.

Jim landed close to his compatriots, his knees bending as he hit the ground. He switched his lights on, the others quickly following suit.

The dropships above them took off into the distance. _They've gotta refuel. Probably gonna be an hour or so._

"How we all doin' boys and girls?" Jim asked, looking around.

The radio was suddenly filled with people checking in. Seemed like everyone was okay.

"Alright then, follow me," said Jim, beginning the trek. "Quarter mile to the southwest. We're gonna have a nice view from Ray's bar, try to figure out what the damage is. Stay frosty, people."

Everywhere Jim looked, he could see large silhouettes projecting twin beams of light into the dust. _Warriors in the dark._ They made good time.

Ray's bar was still intact, even if its owner was apparently absent. Jim called inside, but got no response. He walked over to where he had been earlier that day, overlooking Backwater, though Buck and Allen had beaten him to it.

"Damn aliens got the same idea I do," said Buck, pointing to the flames leaping from the buildings down below.

Jim cursed, before sliding his visor down.

"Commander, Backwater's definitely hit. We got multiple fires but no sign of people," said Jim, peering into the dark below for signs of movement. "We're going in. Hope you got some kind of backup standing by."

"I don't think I can scrounge a militia from Mar Sara City without you here, Mr. Raynor," said the Magistrate, voice nibbled by static. "but I'll see what I can do. Be careful."

The Rangers descended the slope together, taking care not to trip. They reached the outskirts of the city, heralded by a torn up bunker.

"You fought these critters, Jimmy?" asked Allen. "Suckers must be on some kind of juice, if they tore up steel like that. Ain't seen nothing like it."

'_Cept your truck, dumbass._ Still, Jim had to agree that the sight of neosteel having apparently been raked apart was a disturbing one.

"Watch yourselves," said Jim, remembering Belcher's Pass. "These things can pop outta nowhere."

Almost on cue, a shadow ran across the street in front of them. Several marines opened fire, and the creature was propelled backwards with a howl. Jim had just enough time to hear someone Allen chortling before everything went to hell.

Strange shapes erupted from the dirt, obscured in the darkness. Smaller creatures ripped themselves free from the soil in packs before bounding towards the Rangers, while larger ones brought up the rear.

"Bullets and bayonets! Let's do this!" cried Jim. His gauss rifle let rip, sawing one of the smaller creatures in half. Sweat ran down his forehead as his ears filled with the sounds of rifles discharging while underscored by muffled curses.

"Got a sucker! Shit they're all over!"

"Already out, changing mag!"

"I don't know what these things are, but I already love burnin' 'em!"

Jim looked to his left to see Buck spraying napalm all over the creatures, who shrieked, shuddered, and died in a blossom of flame. One leaped on to Buck's suit and fastened itself to his chest plate, puncturing it repeatedly with its strange razor appendages. Buck only swore and swept the creature off with his armored wrist before driving his heel into its back, killing it.

One of the larger creatures was suddenly illuminated by the fresh flame. _Yep, it's another one of them snake-mantises._ Its flaps opened, and Jim suddenly heard strange whistling sounds coming from it. Jim didn't bother to find out what this meant before opening fire on it, the short bursts of his rifle punching gaping holes in the creature's carapace and making it spew alien gore.

"Hold! We gotta hold! Circle up, don't let 'em surround us!"

Jim backed up, still firing in bursts, watching his ammo count drop far too quickly for his liking. A marine to his right, swearing profusely as he fired into the unseen shapes that were coming from everywhere, suddenly dropped. Jim heard a faint gurgling but had no idea what had happened, only that another one of the larger creatures slithered closer after he fell. Jim didn't spare the pepper, killing it easily.

"James, what's going on down there?" came the Magistrate's voice. _Not the best time, commander._

"Aliens all over, commander! Backwater's crawlin' with these bastards! We're holding!"

"Raynor, I'm going to run a comsat," said the Magistrate. "Stand by."

Jim wasn't sure what that was going to accomplish, but let his superior get on with it. He reloaded as quick as he could, heard another marine go down to his right. He turned to cover the gap in the firing line when-

"Shit!"

One of the smaller critters had jumped on to Jim's visor, knocking him over. He could see its angry face shrieking at him through the suit, its appendages raised high. Jim tried to bring his gun to bear…

An armored boot kicked the creature off his face, following up with a cry of "Fuck!" and a gout of flame.

"Up, Jimmy, UP!"

Jim took the outstretched hand of the Firebat and came to his feet as quickly as he could. When he looked around, it was to see the rest of the creatures retreating.

"Shit," gasped Jim. "Thanks, Buck."

"Ain't nothin'. Looks like we done beat 'em back."

Jim had to agree. _But we ain't done yet._

"Time to press the offensive," said Jim, trying to hold on to the anger he was feeling, trying to ignore the fear. "Magistrate, how many dead? How many wounded?"

"Life signs say five dead and ten wounded, Mr. Raynor," said the Magistrate dully.

Jim looked around. He could see five pairs of lights shining straight up into the heavens, the silhouettes projecting them were unmoving. _We all knew there was gonna be some risk. I'm so sorry._

"Commander, you know where these things are coming from?" asked Jim, anger rising. "We beat 'em back."

"We just ran a scan. It looks like… oh, _shit." _It sounded like the Magistrate had just pounded whatever table he was seated at.

"Sir?" Jim always wondered if he would hear the Magistrate swear. Now that he had, it only made him worried. "What's going on?"

"There are these massive… _organisms_, but they look like structures, to the northeast," said the Magistrate, sounding as confused as Jim felt. "The ground is coated in… something. But Jim, that's not the problem. Scans indicate creatures in the air, moving fast to your position. You need to get out of there, NOW."

"These things fly?" Jim heard his squadmates go quiet at the Magistrate's announcement. He looked to the distance, thought he could see a flurry of shapes on the horizon.

"Jim, I'm not sure you can outrun them," said the Magistrate. "Hang on; I've got someone on another line."

"Commander?" There was no response. "Commander?!"

"Looks like the city boy done abandoned us," said Allen, sounding worried. "Is this how the Rangers came to meet their end?"

"Not if I can help it," said Jim. "We might have some time. Search Backwater for anything we can use. Hell, there might even be survivors."

They didn't know how much time they had before the creatures decided to make their push, so they moved quickly. Most of the buildings had either collapsed or burned to the degree to be unusable, but three bunkers remained intact. Even more surprisingly, there were already marines inside.

"Just give them the frequency," said Jim to Jenny when she reported this. "They're with us now. We're about to be attacked again, and we need every gun we can get."

Jim could hear the screeches in the distance, but hoped he was imagining the distant wingbeats. The bunkers had been loaded with marines, while the rest had taken cover behind bits of rubble and the few standing buildings remaining.

"We're not going to make this easy on these bastards. Make every round count." Dark shapes began to fill the air further down the street. "Here they come!" _Commander, I really hope you're requisitioning us some help right about now._

The creatures had a pair of wings between them, and the bodies slung underneath them reminded him Jim of any number of bugs. The shrieking noises they were making, however, did not.

"COME GET SOME!"

The creatures cried as the rifles roared. One of them plummeted from the skies and fell to the ruined street, thrashing wildly in front of Jim until he silenced it with a quick burst to what he assumed was its face.

The bunker furthest from Ray's bar was alight with weapon's fire as the creatures wheeled around it. Jim could see them spitting something at the bunker, heard the cries from the marines within.

"Keep firin'! See if we can't get these fuckers to back off!" Jim gritted his teeth and intermittently squeezed the trigger until he felt his finger start to go numb under the suit.

"Just saw a man go down, Jimmy," reported Buck, who was crouched behind a broken steel beam and trying to pretend he wasn't useless at that instant. "I think them ground critters are makin' a move again. 'Bout time too, was gettin' bored."

Jim heard the now familiar hissing of the snake-mantises and felt a chill settle in his chest.

"Keep shooting! Eyes on the air and ground, boys and girls. Got hostiles all over."

"Why the fuck do they want Backwater this much?" screamed Jenny over the din. Jim honestly could not answer the question.

Jim heard several marines call out that they were on their last mag. It was after killing another snake-mantis with Buck as it slithered around the pillar that he realized he was in a similar situation.

_Bunkers got ammo._

"Rally around the bunkers!" yelled Jim. "Make them pay for every life they take!"

The closest bunker already looked wrecked when Jim sprinted to it, and the air and ground were still alive with motion.

_They can't have us._

Buck lurched to Jim's side, his armor scored and pitted from the fighting. "Last stand, Jimmy?"

"No. This ain't the end. Not here. Not now." Jim bit his lip, trying to think of anything that might save them. He came up with nothing, though he wasn't about to tell the others that. Fortunately, he didn't have to come up with anything good, as the Magistrate chose the time to return to them.

"Gentlemen, sorry for the wait. Alpha Squadron should be here about-"

The rest was cut off as distant engines roared and lights shone from on high, sweeping the battlefield quickly. The familiar silhouette of a battlecruiser hung silently in the dark. Alongside it, smaller ships moved to engage the creatures assaulting Backwater.

"Alright, you damn yokels," came a drawl from the radio. "General Edmund Duke's here to haul yer asses outta the fire. After that, ya'll are gonna answer a few questions for me, ya hear? Anyway – here's Alpha Squadron, savin' the day. As usual."

Two more battlecruisers descended from the atmosphere, their laser batteries lighting up the night. Jim watched drop pods crash into the soil, Confederate marines spilling out of them like so many ants. For the first time in a long time, Jim was happy to see the Confederacy.


	7. The Hunger of the Swarm

**Daggoth**

The creature ran, panting, its terrified gasps only spurring its pursuers into further effort. Its ship had crashed, its comrades spent in either the battle raging in orbit or the slaughter on the ground. Its armor was glistening crimson, its blood a strange blue. When it called out, its voice echoed within itself.

Many millions of miles away on Char, Daggoth stirred within his hive cluster.

_These creatures are a fresh nuisance. _

The creature finally tripped and collapsed, its rifle spinning away from its grasp. Daggoth's zerglings growled – it took a small surge of will for the cerebrate to stop them from pouncing.

_New. Surround. Wait._

Understanding the orders if not the intention, the zerglings swiftly formed a circle around the creature in the dust, hemming him in with their claws. The creature stood, clutching its wounded side and staring into the opposition with a mixture of acceptance and fear. Daggoth approved, reaching out for the Overmind.

**"Daggoth. My invincible son." **

Daggoth felt the surge of attention, the faint and sudden stillness that descended over every zerg on every world as the Overmind's incomprehensibly enormous psionic signature became focused on a single point.

To Daggoth, it was like his mind had been exposed to a distant yet massive sun – warm and inviting, yet alien and in some ways unbearable. He was but a conduit of the Overmind's will, and he was never more reminded of his own limitations than when facing the all-seeing eye that was his Father.

"The battle over Chau Sara rages still. One of these new creatures has been surrounded by my brood, as You so willed it," said Daggoth, trembling in awe.

**"I am well pleased, Daggoth. Extend forth the gift of infestation."**

Daggoth scoured the minds of the overlords who remained on Chau Sara. The protoss' burning of his hive clusters had decimated his numbers, and made it all but impossible for the more advanced lineages of zerg to be hatched for further battle. In a swift orbital strike followed by a brutal assault, the protoss had eliminated the Swarm's capacity to wage war on Chau Sara.

_There has to be a queen left._

The overlords were scattering, launching small zergling attacks on the roving bands of protoss warriors as they scoured the dusts of Chau Sara for their lingering presence. Their escape was only made possible by the sudden arrival of these new creatures, which had begun what seemed to be an attack on the protoss fleet.

_Such foolishness… they bear not the numbers nor the knowledge to wage such a war of aggression against such elevated beings. The protoss are ours to consume and merge with. As it was foretold. As it was intended._

A lone overlord, its mind weary and its carapace scored by terran missiles, confirmed that it controlled a lone queen, far from the current conflict. Daggoth gave the order, and the overlord gave him the queen.

_Forward, brood mother. The glory of the Overmind commands your presence._

The queen launched herself from her ridden roost, propelling herself swiftly through the air and towards Daggoth's zerglings. To insure that she was not intercepted by chance, Daggoth flung another wave of mutalisks at the nearby protoss base's defenses, commanding their attention in full. The mutalisks lasted long enough for the queen to arrive safely to the small congregation of zerglings.

The creature seemed surprised and afraid by the queen as it landed softly in the dirt. The zerglings spread to let her through as she clumsily maneuvered toward the creature, who scrabbled back madly. Daggoth sent a zergling leaping forward from behind the creature, knocking it over and pinning it against the ground.

"**Good,"** intoned the Overmind. **"Now, Daggoth, formidable son… feel the virus rush through your queen. Take this creature and feel its memories, ingest its final thoughts. Learn of their birthplace, their purpose, their numbers. Take everything it has… and make it Ours."**

The queen launched an appendage forward, piercing the creature in the shoulder and drawing it in before it could even feel the pain, sending the zergling atop it pinwheeling into the soil. The queen's muscles clenched and then relaxed, sending a flood of spores into her prisoner as it struggled weakly in her grasp. Daggoth felt the small bloom of the creature's – the _turian's_ mind entering the Swarm. Daggoth descended.

_Born on Palaven, coordinates… so very far away… distant stars and a sudden contact… the Council stirs and the Hierarchy rages… defeat at the hands of this new enemy…_

Daggoth could not be gentle. The turian's biology was mostly incompatible, and he could feel several major organ failures looming unless he did something. Hastily, he gave the best instructions he could to the Hyper-Evolutionary Virus, reprogramming it to accommodate the fresh knowledge regarding turian biology.

The turian coughed and then screamed silently as its deformed lungs twisted violently before being shoved through its back, swelling before the eyes of the zerglings. When Daggoth felt the new lungs expanding and collapsing from the turian's back, he knew the most major of the problems had been diverted.

_Still… there is no harm in fashioning the blueprints for a new strain in full_.

Being careful to preserve the brain, Daggoth convinced the virus to clone a new heart for his fresh turian. The turian, unable to stand, writhed and clutched at his chest as the new organ expanded tightly against his rib cage. The already impressive carapace of the turian hardened further at Daggoth's command. The turian's claws cracked and lengthened before the turian's gaze, leaving him with bodily weapons that would not shame any in Daggoth's brood.

Finally, lacking any purpose save for that it pleased him, Daggoth let the turian's mandibles fall away. Seconds later, larger mandibles that shone with the red of Daggoth's brood erupted from the turian's now twisted face, showering the soil around it with blue blood that was now tinged with crimson.

The infested turian was armored and impressive. It already stood at an unaugmented six feet, and Daggoth had further improvements in mind. The lungs represented a vulnerability, but could easily be covered with a shell of some kind. However, with its brain intact, the turian was going mad with pain, and Daggoth was at risk of losing its memories. Merging in full with the virus, Daggoth wound his way through the neural passages.

_Asari… salarians… krogan…_

Names and images raced through Daggoth's mind as he dug greedily through the turian's memories. Where Daggoth tread, the turian's brain cells died, leaving only withered matter. Soon, only zerg would be left.

_Many great races… advanced… numerous… yet ignorant…_

_Third Fleet preparing to advance on Relay… new sector must be explored… new worlds…_

Tired of the turian's words, Daggoth delved into numbers, procuring the coordinates of as many worlds as possible. After that, Daggoth took all that was left regarding weapons technology and Hierarchy military strength before discarding the now mindless husk. He never bothered with the turian's name. Daggoth let his will dissipate, leaving the queen and zerglings to hurry back to battle while the turian, twisted and filled with rage, shambled after them.

"This creature, this… turian, has been made Ours," proclaimed Daggoth. "All that I have found is Yours. I am but an extension of Your will."

**"Indeed. Withdraw entire from Chau Sara, Daggoth. It seems that a greater prize waits."**

Daggoth let Chau Sara begin fade from his mind's eye. His vision withdrew from the soil and to the clouds, watching as another turian vessel plummeted, afire, from the heavens. Past the clouds came the debris clogged atmosphere, the wreckages of many ships floating in silent testimony to the wrath of the protoss. Then, Daggoth was among the void and stars, the distant battle between turian and protoss only a distant boom, a few flashes of light both orange and blue. Daggoth stirred… and was home.

"My brood fought as well as it could, Father," said Daggoth. "The ferocity of the protoss warrior is near unmatched; even distracted as they were by these new turians, their assault continued unabated. Their hatred for their enemies burns brighter than any star."

**"Yet the will of the Swarm glows brighter still,"** came the reply, **"and cools far more slowly. This fresh knowledge paints a new tapestry of this galaxy, one that the xel'naga did not anticipate."**

"Your glory is as eternal as your will father," said Daggoth. "What would you have us do?"

**"These turians are even more pathetic than the terrans," **said the Overmind. **"Their physical forms are impressive, but they are devoid of psionic potential. However, their numbers are enormous, and their will clearly indomitable. In these new stars, they will be among Our most cunning opponents." **

"Their weapons are not like the terran's," said Daggoth. "Where the terrans bring thunder and pain, the turians bring a stinging rain that makes zerglings scream and fall, but leaves their bodies mostly intact. You need only will it and…"

**"My will is to leave these turians to harry the protoss. These… relays… they will not recognize the smaller spaceborne broods, and I am loathe to part with any leviathans,"** said the Overmind, its tone ponderous and thoughtful.** "Daggoth… My most daring son… you are to be a part of My grandest design."**

"I hear and obey, Father," said Daggoth, feeling the creeping knife edge of the Overmind's presence. "Tell me Your will."

The images came fast and thick as the Overmind pinpointed worlds an almost incalculable distance from Char.

_Therum._

The Overmind projected Its will – that a gaping warp rift transport the entirety of Daggoth's Char-born brood to the literal other side of the galaxy, at the edges of what the turian had known as Council space.

_It is remote… on the fringes… yet it burns like Char – it is filled with precious metals – a place to hide and grow._

Daggoth watched the fiery surface of the planet suddenly grow patches of Creep. Hives grew among the soil and magma, while overlords drifted lazily overhead.

_The… Attican Traverse…_

The brood grew, mutalisks climbing through the heavens. Daggoth watched his own form grow on the surface of Therum, larger and stronger; strong enough to create a warp rift of his own. His brood spread, and the final visions the Overmind sent to him where those of conquest and victory as the Zerg Swarm consumed a terrified galaxy.

**"The glory of My will is weaved through every zerg," **said the Overmind. **"It is no more escapable than the inevitable tug of entropy. But you are to be given grand purpose. While I remain with the other cerebrates to carry out the search for the protoss homeworld, you shall carry out a path of conquest. Far though you will be, know that should your flesh fail, My will shall still make you anew. I ask only that you make the Swarm strong, and fell Our enemies with speed and ferocity. The distance may quiet My voice…and warping back will be beyond even My capabilities."**

"**Daggoth… My loneliest son… you must go forth among these stars… and consume them."**

"As You will it… Father."

Every zerg on Char suddenly shrieked, creating a wondrous melody as they proclaimed the everlasting glory of the Overmind and Its chosen son. The wingbeats of mutalisks, the rumbling of ultralisks, the howls of the zerglings, Daggoth heard all of this as his physical form was carried to an overlord by a retinue of drones.

_There will be no turning back. Should the events of Chau Sara repeat themselves, I will be left alone and immortal among unfriendly stars._

Daggoth was placed into the waiting tendrils of the overlord. He flexed the few muscles present in his own fleshy form, aiding the placement of himself within the creature's belly.

He cast his mind to his brood, which had been temporarily overridden and driven into frenzy by the Overmind. The pride of his brood, the hunter killers, was much in attendance. They slithered into the waiting arms of the overlords that would bear them through the void, trailing a thin film of drool as they went.

Zerglings were erupting from the soil, the hidden tunnels steadily emptying themselves of every available organism. The landscape seemed to move of its own accord as the many thousands of zerglings leapt joyfully into the waiting tendrils of the overlords.

Finally, there was relative stillness on the ground as the last of Daggoth's brood was commanded to prepare themselves for the exodus. Now it was the flier's turn. Queens, overlords, mutalisks – all those that fell under Daggoth's domain – took to the heavens with a cry. For a moment, the skies were black with zerg, their many wingbeats creating a thunder of their own.

Finally, Daggoth and his brood found themselves within the silence of space. Thousands of space borne zerg waited for the Overmind to begin.

"**Daggoth… My most glorious son…" **

Suddenly and silently, a massive purple hole tore itself open before the waiting zerg. Daggoth watched in awe through a thousand thousand eyes.

"**I tear the heavens asunder for you…"**

Daggoth felt the Overmind recede from his brood, allowing him to promptly retake control of his warriors. He could feel the other Cerebrates watching, jealous at this show of favor.

_Such a task could only fall to the fiercest and most cunning of his cerebrates…let none deny that I earned that title, that I will prove it by felling this Council, and the races that govern it!_

"**Go forth then, Daggoth. Show them the might of My Swarm."**

Daggoth's brood propelled themselves towards the rift. Daggoth reached for his Father for a final, private farewell…but felt the Overmind pull away slightly. What Daggoth felt chilled him.

_Sadness? Trepidation? And… something else._ _An ancient purpose._

It was not Daggoth's to know. With a final cry that only the zerg on Char could hear, Daggoth and his brood plunged through the portal, leaving the Koprulu sector for distant and occupied shores.


	8. Lost Amid Strangers

**Adrien**

When Adrien awoke, it was to a blaze of pain in his side and a mistaken belief that he was back on Taetrus. When his eyes opened however, it was not to stern and hostile rebel faces, but simply the wall of cracked monitors opposite from where he had slumped.

_Not dead yet… but I'm cold. So cold…_

The VI had finished its rundown on the number of system failures – but that did not tell Adrien when exactly he had passed out. When he jerked unsteadily into a hunched yet standing position, he saw that nearly all of the readings had died. The fires had died too – the ship was as silent as the vacuum of space. Adrien was still well enough to be mobile, but there was nowhere to go.

_I'm not going to die slumped and defeated…_

Adrien lurched clumsily to the sole flickering readout of the ship that remained. To his horror and lack of surprise, life support had been down for three hours, and much of the ship was now completely without oxygen or heat. The CIC probably did not have much longer.

"So this is how it ends then," said Adrien. "Freezing to death in the emptiness of space."

Adrien's leg wobbled, and he let himself slide back down to the floor.

_I did my best. They'll tell Tarquin that I did not back down, that I served the Hierarchy to my dying breath. No one will see how unpleasant those last moments looked like. As far as they know, I died when _Relentless _took apart the enemy vessel._

Adrien wondered what other turians had felt in this situation – alone and dying after a brave sacrifice. _General Orelius's stand on Garvug. Last one standing, the enemy beaten back, but left to bleed to death. What was he thinking?_

"I'm cold," said Adrien. _Maybe that's all there is to it._

Adrien's eyes shut as he felt the tips of his toes begin to go numb. _Not long now…_

Adrien thought he could hear strange muffled voices, but a few hallucinations were to be expected at this stage. His eyes remained shut…

…until he heard unmistakable sizzling coming from the direction of the lift.

His eyes snapped open and his head turned quickly to face the new intrusion. The steel doors had been sealed, but now a dazzling light was showering sparks from the top of the closed entrance. The light descended, leaving melted steel in its wake.

Adrien hurriedly gathered what little interest he had left in his own fate and tried to determine who could be responsible for this interruption. Unfortunately, the willpower was exhausted once he was beyond drawing the conclusion that it was most likely not a turian rescue team.

_So… who will land the killing stroke on this broken down old general?_

The sparks reached the bottom of the elevator doors and stopped. Adrien felt himself involuntarily take a sharp breath – and then the doors were smashed open with a deafening crash. A pair of hulking silhouettes shone in twin beams of light from the inside of the elevator. They strode in carefully, eight feet tall and clearly in some kind of enormous sealed suit. They cradled massive rifles in their arms.

They advanced, guns at the ready as they walked towards the sprawling corpse of a flight officer. One of them half crouched and nudged the body with the barrel of his gun. When there was no response, one of them said something to the other and they moved on, their crimson armor gleaming dully in the emergency lighting.

Adrien considered playing dead, but could not justify the effort. The two – aliens, synthetics, whatever – moved from body to body, occasionally pointing to bits of machinery and making unintelligible remarks. Finally, they came to the stiff form of Adrien, who just stared up at them.

The intruder on the left immediately leveled his gun barrel to Adrien's head and only stopped when his partner made some kind of protest and roughly shoved the gun away from Adrien. Adrien, meanwhile, had gone completely numb and just watched with mild interest.

After what sounded like a muffled shouting match between the two potential executioners, the one on the left made a motion at the elevator, its armored hand beckoning. Adrien inclined his head, and saw a much slimmer, smaller intruder step gracefully into the CIC.

Adrien saw the funny bumps and thought immediately of the asari. As the new intruder stepped over a turian body with a carefulness that was both uniquely menacing and yet still somehow feminine, Adrien felt this was a valid comparison. Her – Adrien was going to default to asari terminology on this one – rifle was slung over her back, and her strange armor appeared to be both skintight and somehow powered, as he could see lines of energy course through it. A mask covered her face, masking whatever her expression might have been when she reached Adrien.

When she spoke to what were likely her two subordinates, it was at a higher and louder pitch. The two intruders immediately bent over Adrien, and he felt cold, strong hands lift him upward. There was a surge of pain as they brushed his rib but then-

_A hot summer's morning on Palaven. Viola is still asleep at home, while Tarquin and I walk the old paths to where our ancestors were buried. My stomach was empty and rumbling, but I was eager to spend a few small moments alone with my son-_

"What-" Adrien awoke gasping, snapping from that strange reverie to the sensation of being dropped on to some kind of steel cot. He could hear the distant roar of engines. One of the big intruders leaned into his face, and the face visor slid open, releasing a billowing cloud of smoke. When it curled away, Adrien could see the pink and red face beneath it, shifting what Adrien thought was a cigar within what Adrien _knew_ was its mouth.

The mouth spoke. As before, it was so much meaningless noise to Adrien, but he nevertheless opened his own to resp-

_It hadn't been raining at the funeral. Adrien loved Palaven and its sun-smothered summers, but at that moment, he had wanted to scream. Couldn't the spirits see?! Could they not, for one moment, recognize the collected grief of him and his family? It should be pouring at funerals, it should…things should not just go on as they always did. _

_But the sun beat down, heedless, as it had for so many better moments. They recounted the times spent with his wife, and finally said goodbye. Adrien was to go last. He felt a coward for putting it off for so long, for letting his son go before him, but he nevertheless felt a small stab of pride as his son stared fiercely into the crowd, and said-_

Adrien woke this time to the sound of a buzzing saw. He had been strapped to a steel gurney, all around him were the faces of these new creatures – most were pink or reddish, but one had a face that was very brown. It was the eyes of the one in the corner that panicked him most, however. The creature stood tall, wearing a cloak of all things. Some kind of fur coated most of his face and scalp, and his eyes were glued to Adrien's. The creature motioned, and the buzzing stopped. The creature motioned to his right, and the female appeared again, this time without the mask.

Adrien was not sure what to make of it. A long stream of red fur protruded in a ghastly fashion from her scalp, falling back down towards her back. She still wore the powered suit, and something in her expression made a tight pit of fear settle in Adrien's stomach. The female crossed over to Adrien, reached out and-

Adrien stood bewildered at the small stream he and Tarquin had fished from unsuccessfully many years ago. Across the bridge stood the female, her eyes shut, her mouth moving without making any sound. Adrien looked down at himself and saw that his military outfit was gone, replaced by civilian attire, and his body was unscathed. While this perplexed him, he was much more curious about the creature across the bridge from him, who held up a hand.

"Give me… a few… moments," said a voice that immediately put Adrien in the mindset that he was being spoken to by an asari matriarch.

"I understood that," said Adrien, more to himself than anything. He took an uncertain step toward the female, but found that, while his feet seemed to move, the distance did not grow any less. He shrugged, his interest in the spectacle ebbing. "If you aliens have decided to kill me, get on with it. I've had a long day."

"This…isn't easy…General – Victus?"

Adrien might have been more impressed at her knowing his name if it hadn't sounded like such a guess.

"Yes. I am General Adrien Victus of the Turian Hierarchy. I have no idea what is going on, who you are, or how I got here," said Adrien, impatient. "If you're one of the bastards that destroyed my flotilla-"

"No," said the female, cutting him off quickly. "My name is Sarah Kerrigan, I am a terran, and I am here representing the Sons of Korhal. I can see the ships you're raging against… and they're not terran."

"Marvelous," said Adrien. "I assume you're in my head, somehow? I've heard of asari being able to perform certain feats like this, but mostly only during sex-"

"What?" Kerrigan reddened. "No! Nononono, I am here as an ambassador, and _we are doing nothing of the kind._"

Adrien inclined his head, not letting his amusement at her response show. "Very well. This is my mind, however, correct?"

"That side is," said Kerrigan, pointing to Adrien and his side of the bridge. "We're currently linked. Normally when I get the permission to read people I just do a brief scan, but I had to… well, go in a little deeper so we could talk. I can't teach you to speak English, but you'll be able to understand it well enough when you wake."

"That's nice," said Adrien. "Tell me, what were all of those saws for?"

Kerrigan, who had been maintaining eye contact so well after that brief hiccup regarding mind sex, suddenly averted them again.

"You were fading fast. I thought you would eventually just… die. I had you focus on a happy memory, but you rejected it pretty fast. Then I gave you a sad one, but you still… well. We were about to do an autopsy. None of us expected you to wake up like that."

"I see." Adrien no longer knew what to say. He doubted he could make any real threats or demands to this… terran. _This might be my mind, but she's basically locked me in. Meanwhile, I'm strapped to a gurney on the outside._

"Everything you just thought," said Kerrigan, "I just heard. It's all correct too, by the way. But I didn't realize you were a general. Your thoughts were rather, well, focused on your imminent death."

Adrien immediately thought of naked asari, provoking a disgusted reaction from Kerrigan.

"Everywhere I go, men are all the same," she said, pale face wrinkling. "The second they learn I can see into their heads-"

"We think of what would drive you out of it?" countered Adrien.

Kerrigan smiled. "A fair point. Doesn't work though. I'll see you on the other side."

Adrien did not have a chance to react as he awoke, again, atop the steel gurney. His bonds had been undone, however.

Sarah Kerrigan had walked to the side of the fur-faced terran in the cloak. When Adrien turned to the male, he spoke.

"General Adrien Victus. I welcome you aboard the _Hyperion_, pride of the Korhal fleet," he said in a deep voice. "My name is Arcturus Mengsk, and we need to have a word."

With a quick gesture to his left, the room was vacated by the other terrans, save Kerrigan. Adrien took in Arcturus's bearing.

_Confident, strong, and not a hint of doubt. If I didn't know better, he greeted new alien races every day._

Adrien sat up on the gurney before repositioning himself so his legs dangled over the edge. His uniform was still intact, though he could still feel the pain of the rib underneath. It seemed the terrans had done nothing aside from transport him here, for what would have been a vivisection. It was probably for the best - whatever functioned as a painkiller to them might very well be lethal to him.

"I know you can understand me, General. I have the utmost confidence in my lieutenant's capabilities. I do apologize for your surroundings. I was told with near certainty that you would expire before we began to operate."

Adrien was unused to the expressions that these terran faces made, and had no idea if he had been lied to in that regard. Arcturus's voice certainly sounded reassuring enough.

"You took me off my ship," said Adrien. "I was fully prepared to die there. Then, you ceased your autopsy. As far as I can tell, you have saved me. Until I know why, however, I will reserve my gratitude."

Arcturus looked to Kerrigan.

"He says that we saved him, but we will receive no thanks until he learns why," she said.

_So. Only Kerrigan can understand me._ Adrien almost smiled, until he saw Kerrigan shoot him a warning glance. _She knows. This would be the worst possible time to start thinking of classified Hierarchy information…_

To that end, Adrien again thought of naked asari, coupled with occasional guilty thought regarding his dead wife. _Were she in the same situation, she would have done the exact same thing._

"Well, General, while I have heard rumblings of extraterrestrial life, you are the first I have ever come across personally," said Mengsk, staring deeply into Adrien's eyes, watching his every movement and facial expression. "Your people are clearly intelligent and organized – your ship is well designed and you bear a recognizable uniform – and thus, the instant I learned of your survival, I rescinded the order to cut you open. I was hoping I might formally begin diplomatic relations with your people, a hope that became ever brighter when I learned of your rank… General."

Adrien wondered if Kerrigan had left some kind of influence on him that made Mengsk seem more eloquent than he really was. His word choice and means of delivery were impressive.

"We're talking," said Adrien, trying not to be taken in while still sitting in the gurney he had almost died in, "but I am hardly the best choice for this matter. I am a soldier first and always."

"He says he's a soldier, and feels he is an inappropriate choice as a diplomat."

"But you are the sole survivor of your vessel, General," said Mengsk, a surprised tone in his voice. "At least, you were the only survivor we could find. If not you, then who else?"

"Look," said Adrien, annoyed at being cajoled into this. "I'm wounded, alone, and a long way from home. I have no idea where I am, or who you people are. The last time someone opened an unknown relay, the rachni almost took the galaxy. I'm going to want some answers of my own."

Kerrigan looked confused, but still translated as best she could.

"He says he's tired, confused, and a long way from home. He, uh, said something about a relay race, I think, and then asked if we could please give him some information in return."

Arcturus stroked some of his chin-fur. "Reasonable complaints and a reasonable request. I am not entirely certain that you are in the best physical shape for a race, General, but I will happily comply if that is your desire. However, I suspect that to be... a translation error. The rest - very well. I will tell you of our local terran governments and history. In return, you will explain to me…" he looked to Kerrigan. "What was the name of his race again, lieutenant?"

"Turian, sir."

"You will explain to me turian history and government. Does this sound reasonable?"

Adrien gave it some thought. _Silence is always a valid option, but how long before Kerrigan just pokes through my brain until she finds what she needs? She said her people were not responsible for the attack on my flotilla, but…_

Kerrigan motioned to Adrien. "Follow me, General."

Adrien dropped carefully off the gurney and padded after Kerrigan, feeling clumsy and wounded next to her careful movement. She took him to what Adrien recognized as a viewport – he could see stars and indistinct shapes beyond the window. Kerrigan pointed to one of the indistinct shapes.

"Do those look like the ships that took out your flotilla, General?" asked Kerrigan.

Adrien could see them better now. A broad, flat head followed by a thinner frame that was flanked by an enormous propulsion system on either side. Their coloration was the grey of steel, with some red symbols interspersed throughout the vessel. They looked strange, and more reassuringly, utterly unlike the ships responsible for the 37th Flotilla.

"No," said Adrien slowly. "No, they do not. Their design is… completely different."

Kerrigan grasped Adrien gently by the shoulder and guided him back to the waiting Mengsk.

"General. Have you come to a satisfactory conclusion?" he asked, clasping his asari-like fingers.

Adrien sighed, hoping that he was not making a decision that would inadvertently doom his people or their allies.

"Yes, Mengsk. In return for the story of your own people, I will give you mine," said Adrien. "But I warn you, if I detect the faintest hint of deception in this so-called history of yours, you may as well cut me open, because that is all you will ever get from this turian." _Excusing the fact that Kerrigan could probably read my mind with ease anyway, this seems like a reasonable bargain._

Kerrigan smiled. "He says he will talk, sir, but expects you to be truthful or we will receive nothing from him."

"Very well," said Mengsk, pulling up a nearby steel chair and sitting upon it, staring Adrien right in the face.

"It all began long ago, when our home planet of Earth launched four prison ships…"


	9. Warzone

**James**

Jim and his surviving Rangers had been basically sidelined since Duke's arrival. After the aliens had been repelled, Duke had taken his Alpha Squadron and cleared the area around Backwater Station of anything that looked even remotely hostile. Jim and the rest had been discreetly retrieved via dropships courtesy of the Magistrate; it was clear Duke had no intention of working alongside Jim. The marines who landed amongst the ruins of Backwater had given them nothing beyond polite warnings to maintain their distance.

Now, Jim looked over Mar Sara City from the highest building on the planet – the Confederacy's Government Office. The top floor contained the Magistrate's formal office, a spacious affair that the Magistrate had apparently attempted to decorate, and then quickly given up when it was clear there was too much ground to cover. A few spare certificates regarding the Magistrate's schooling in matters of government had been placed proudly near the steel door, and a red carpet lead a small ways into the office. Aside from that, there was the office desk where the Magistrate was frantically trying to get in touch with some of his old associates before General Duke arrived, and that was it. This was the office of the highest ranked Confederate official on the planet, but Jim would not have been able to tell just by looking at it.

_Not that there's anything wrong with that. No pretentious bullshit, no ridiculous displays of power. Just a few certificates and a desk._ Jim heard a muffled curse and turned to see that his boss's face had turned a dull red.

"It's just us and the general on this one, Mr. Raynor," said the Magistrate, rubbing his bloodshot eyes and standing. "I was hoping that my contacts and our, well, shared history might buy this planet some more security and independence. It seems I was wrong. You have my apologies."

"Hey man," said Jim, striding over to the Magistrate with a grin on his face. "You sent us out and tried to keep your people safe. Far as I see, you did your job, even if we do have to deal with that goon the 'Feds sent us."

"Right," said the Magistrate, shifting away and looking uncomfortable. "Yes. Thank you, James. I'm sorry I did not round up more men for your little excursion. Perhaps casualties might not have been-"

"War means casualties," said Jim abruptly, "and these critters declared war on us. Way I see it, woulda been stupid not to get out there as fast as we could. Backwater was gettin' eaten alive."

The Magistrate gave Jim a small smile, his cold blue eyes lighting up for the briefest of instants.

"I… truly appreciate that, Jim. Thank you. I will see to it that you – and the men who fell while under your command – are honored by the Confederacy."

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, well, "Confederacy" and "honor" don't really belong in the same sentence, Commander. But it's a hell of a sentiment."

The office was briefly lit up by a searchlight peering in from the heavens. Jim turned and saw the battlecruiser looming over the city, its searchlights dancing through the gloom. _Guess we'll be seeing ol' Dukie pretty soon._

Jim was not wrong. General Edmund Duke clomped into the office in massive combat boots, his hulking form instantly making him the most prominent figure in the room. Broad shouldered and scowling, Duke gave Jim a withering glance, making him wish that he hadn't taken his power armor off. _Dukie here could give Tychus Findlay himself a run for his money in the size department._

"Surprised to see you here, Marshal," said Duke, looking Jim up and down with disdain. "I thought I'd find you and your boys crawlin' into another nest of zerg without backup. Fair warnin' – I ain't diggin' any more yokels out of their own idiocy."

"Hey man, I ain't about leaving folks to die at the hands of aliens when I could be savin' them," said Jim before frowning. "And wait, they're called zerg?"

"Confederate High Command," said Duke, drawing out the syllables with pride, "thought that, what with these critters givin' us seven kindsa trouble, we may as well have a name for 'em. Don't ask me where they got zerg, cause I don't know. What I do know is that they're ugly as hell and twice as mean."

"General, I appreciate your assistance," said the Magistrate, seating himself back behind his desk and clasping his hands. "Can I count on you and your men to hunt down the rest of these… zerg?"

"It's what we're being paid for," said Duke. "Gotta say, though, these critters put up more of a fight than I expected. I thought the Guild Wars would be the pinnacle of my military achievement, but here we are. Marshal, how many hillbillies you have under your command?"

"Hillbillies?!" Jim clenched his jaw. "Listen, _General_, I rounded up a posse to sort out them aliens; every man and woman you saw out there was a volunteer. I don't got anyone under command, _sir_."

"Oh?" Duke looked thoughtful for a second. "Well, that changes now. Ya'll just got impressed. Don't worry, Alpha Squadron's mighty prestigious. You and your men are now workin' for the Confederacy – and judgin' by how ya'll were fighting at Backwater, I'd say some of you have already done a tour or two."

"General," said the Magistrate, a polite yet steely tone beginning to set in his voice, "I must politely insist-"

"Shove your polite insist," said Duke. "I been given a job to secure this planet, and I'm gonna do it. Mar Sara is now on lockdown, Magistrate. No ships in or out, and I'm fortifyin' this here city. Recent events over at Chau Sara got the Confederacy worried about security. Trust me, what's happenin' over there – you don't want it here."

The Magistrate's clasped hands were now clenched, the knuckles turned white. When the Magistrate spoke, it was through almost gritted teeth.

"Of course, General."

"Good," said Duke, nodding in apparent ignorance at the sudden coldness that filled the room. "Now, either of you heard or seen anything about any other kindsa loose aliens? Kinda two legged, ten foot tall bastards?"

"No, General," said the Magistrate, now looking mightily confused. "I cannot say that I have."

"Oh, good," said Duke, a look of relief crossing his face. Duke rubbed his eyes and snorted. "Now, I've been awake for twenty-two straight hours, so I'm gonna remedy that. Marshal, I'll reach you through the Magistrate. I'll see if I can't make use of you and your ragtag band of rednecks tomorrow. Ya'll sleep tight now." He began to leave, before stopping and rubbing his chin, as if in thought. He looked back at the Magistrate. "You sure this is your office, Magistrate? I seen more decorations in the Norad II's bathroom stalls – take some pride in your damn work."

Duke sidled off, yawning. The door behind him slid shut with a clang while the Magistrate sat seething at his desk. Jim meanwhile, was preoccupied with being impressed and the idea of fighting "ten foot tall bastards." He let out a low whistle.

"Guess I'm fightin' for the Confederacy again," he said, resigned. "Hell, at least I'll be protecting Mar Sara in the process. And uh, for what it's worth, _I _like your office."

The Magistrate's knuckles clenched and unclenched.

"Thank you, James," said the Magistrate through gritted teeth. "Now, having met the esteemed Duke, it seems obvious that having our alien guest in Confederate hands - even if he isn't ten feet tall - would not be the brightest of ideas. Would you be so kind as to head back to Rushtown and check on the clinic? We may have to move him."

"Yeah," said Jim as he made for the door. "I'm gonna try and get some sleep while I'm at it. I'm guessin' I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early."

Jim didn't wait for a reply as he rushed down the many stairs to the ground floor. His Vulture was waiting for him, having been carted to a Mar Sara City garage at his request. He mounted the bike, ignited the engines, and let open road fill his mind for a spell.

When he arrived back at Rushtown, it was mercifully quiet and still untouched by either the Confederacy or the zerg. The clinic's lights were no longer on, but Jim knew that Dr. Harvey wouldn't dare leave their alien guest unattended.

Sure enough, he found the good doctor slumped asleep in a chair outside the alien's office, a shotgun still cradled in her arms. Jim woke her as gently as he could.

"Hmm? Oh, good to see you, Jim." The doctor stretched before standing and setting her shotgun aside. "Everything okay? What time is it?"

"It's about 3 a.m., doc," said Jim quietly. "We got aliens and Confederates all over this planet. I need you to keep quiet about our guest, alright?"

The doctor shrugged. "Sure. Sorry about dozin' off. Want some coffee?"

Jim could not deny that a coffee would not go amiss. Dr. Harvey shuffled to the kitchen, yawning, while Jim asked her questions about the alien.

"I sent my two boys out to the shuttle," said Dr. Harvey. "Figured it might have stuff that Beaky - uh, you know, cause he looks like a bird - stuff that he might need. Took it back here. Some of it was food, some of it seems to have been medicine. Let him pick and choose, you know, and he stopped most of his own bleeding. He's been very cooperative, especially considerin' he don't speak a word of English."

_Glad to hear he ain't a troublemaker. If we could get ahold of the rest of his people, might be they could help us fight the zerg. Beaky certainly didn't take kindly to those monsters._

"Can I see him, doc?" Jim asked, watching Dr. Harvey fumble sleepily for her coffeepot.

"What? Oh, of course," replied the doctor, waving in the direction of the door. "You got a sidearm on you, Jim? Can't hurt to be too careful."

"You know it," said Jim, patting his holster. He left Dr. Harvey and stood before the door to Beaky's new habitat. After a moment's consideration, Jim knocked loudly on the door before opening it.

"Beaky" sat on a chair opposite the entrane, glaring at Jim as he walked in. Several crates recovered from the shuttle sat unopened to his left, while a single opened crate lay at his feet. Jim was amused to see that Dr. Harvey had provided plastic kitchen utensils for the alien to use, and that Beaky had done just that. _Even cleaned up after himself. Not a single crumb on the carpet._

Having entered the alien's domain, Jim now felt rather awkward. He cleared his throat, but knew the alien would not understand a word. Instead, they just stared at one another.

"Well, it's good to see you're okay," said Jim. "Uh, I'll check up on you later."

The door shut behind Jim with a click. Dr. Harvey walked in from the kitchen, a steaming mug in each hand.

"He seems to be doing well for himself," said Jim, taking a mug. "Did you check what was in those crates?"

Dr. Harvey shrugged. "The boys did. Said it looked like crappy rations and some medical gauze. I let him have it; I'm not sure what Beaky's folk eat – there might not be any of it 'round here. Oh, and I heard the bell earlier, but didn't dare leave the office. What was that all about?"

"Alien problems," said Jim, sipping the coffee. "I rustled up a posse to head to Backwater. Listen doc, you need to keep uh, Beaky, safe and under wraps. The Magistrate will probably move him eventually, but if the Confederates get ahold of him, he'll be sliced open in a heartbeat. You feel me?"

Dr. Harvey blinked. "Right. Alright, Jim, I'll uh, just keep him in there for now. Barely anyone comes in these days anyway, shouldn't be hard."

"Thanks doc," said Jim, draining the last of the coffee. "Now I need to get some sleep. Sorry to wake you." _Might not have been the best idea to drink coffee when all I want to do is sleep._

When Jim returned home, however, sleep came easily, even if it was plagued by nightmares. Images of Lidya and John bled together with the silhouettes of CMC combat armor, all interspersed with horrible zerg hissing. When Jim woke, all he could remember was the feeling of one of the little critters gnawing on his face while he screamed for his son.

His eyes opened to golden light streaming in from the shutters. The ceiling fan whirred overhead, creating a pleasant breeze which licked Jim's face. When he rolled over on the bed to look at his clock, it said **9:37**.

_Six hours is good enough. Time to man up…_

Jim groaned and rolled out of bed. When he was done with the morning routine of shower, breakfast, etc, he strolled into the street of Rushtown to be greeted with the sight of several Wraiths streaking by overhead.

_Confederate presence already rampin' up._

A crowd of people had gathered in the street before a small squad of Confederate marines who were ushering people into a large truck. Jim saw Buck and Allen standing off to the side, glowering at the marines.

"Howdy, Buck, Allen," said Jim, nodding. "Good to see you two still in one piece. Hell of a fight last night."

"Hell of a fight," said Allen, nodding. "I was pretty happy them 'Feds came in to save us – but I'm thinkin' the time for gratitude just passed. They tell you that everyone who fought last night and was still standin' at the end had done been impressed?"

"Yeah," said Jim, guilty. "Yeah, they did. We're workin' under a bona fide Confederate general – the illustrious Edmund Duke."

Buck spat. "Shithead Puke, you say? He the one who ordered everyone livin' on the outskirts to move into the wasteland?"

Jim cocked his head, looking back at the crowd and the trucks. "That what's goin' on?"

Allen laughed. "Said they don't have the manpower to look after every backwater on this planet. Said it would be easier to group us all up, put up a garrison in the wasteland."

"A solid enough plan," said Jim. "I'm sure it won't be for forever."

"Tell it to him," said Buck, pointing at the Confederate marine approaching their little group. The marine stood, towering over all three of them before, to Jim's surprise, saluting him.

"Marshal Raynor, was told to look for you." The visor slid open, revealing the shaven head of a very young man.

_Always disconcertin' to remember there are ordinary people sometimes in those things._

"Well," said Jim, folding his arms. "Go ahead."

"We're rounding up your uh, Rangers," said the marine, quickly gesturing at Buck and Allen. "We a;sp found a few more volunteers besides. The General has orders for you once the dropships come in. Your armor and gun should be aboard, along with the rest of your people."

"Alright then," said Jim, surprised at the efficiency. "I'll just, uh, stay here."

The marine saluted again and then strode off. Jim and his two Rangers stood in sullen silence for a few minutes, watching Rushtown empty as people were herded into the trucks. Eventually, shortly after the last truck's departure, the distant thunder of dropships began to sound on the horizon. Shortly after, six dropships landed within the now otherwise silent streets of Rushtown.

Marines poured out of the ships, many of them clad in older armor. A pair of them, carrying a CMC suit between them, strode towards the waiting Jim, Buck, and Allen.

"Jenny," said Jim, recognizing the ironic overtly feminine paintjob done on the suit. "Good to see you. That my suit?"

The marines dropped the power armor in front of Jim in an upright position. Jenny opened her visor, letting out a great deal of smoke from the cigar she had apparently been enjoying.

"Yep," she said, blowing yet more smoke through her nostrils. "Better get in, things got bad overnight."

"Bad?" Jim asked as he stretched and then began to clamber into the suit.

"Yep. Three settlements on the other side of the planet were attacked, pretty much everyone killed," said Jenny without much emotion or apparent interest. "'Feds rolled out to meet them zerg, and now there's a full blown war on." Jenny blew out more smoke. "Honestly, I'm lookin' forward to kickin' some more alien ass, even if the Confederates are technically making me do it."

Jim privately agreed. It took only two minutes for him to finish entering the suit and adjusting himself appropriately. Readouts began to blare in front of his face when he shut the visor, and he saw that the Rangers frequency from last night was still being used. He patched into it, and was immediately greeted by the Magistrate.

"Jim, good to see you're okay," said the Magistrate, unusually breathless. "All settlements outside of Mar Sara City have been evacuated, and there's heavy fighting across the planet. Harrisford, Donnelville, and St. Jerome's all got wiped out. It's a goddamned mess… tell me our guest is at least secure."

"Our g- oh _shit._" Without warning the others, Jim rushed to the clinic. The others shouted in surprise behind him, but no one followed. _Can't believe I forgot about Beaky. Please tell me Dr. Harvey at least kept quiet._

When he entered the clinic, it was as still as a tomb. Dr. Harvey had apparently been evacuated, but when he looked to the door of Beaky's office, there was a note pinned to it. Moving carefully and trying to knock anything over in the massive frame of his power armor, Jim read the note.

_Jim,_

'_Feds told us all to clear out. Was given ten minutes to pack a suitcase. Beaky okay last I checked. Left door unlocked – if he gets left here, he won't starve. You'll need to move him soon. Good luck,_

_Dr. Jaina Harvey_

Jim opened the door, though he was unable to squeeze in. He leaned down to get a better view.

"Oh, you little bastard…"

Beaky was gone, and the office was strewn with electronic parts. Beaky had also apparently cracked open some more crates and taken as many rations as possible. When Jim looked back to the kitchen, he saw that a window had been left conspicuously ajar. Beyond it lay only the empty hissing wastes. _Yeah, he's gone._

"Commander, our guest has flown the coop," said Jim. "The Confederate evacuation gave him an opening, and he took it."

Jim thought he could hear the sound of grating teeth from the other end of the line.

"Fine. _Fine._ The Confederates and zerg have turned this planet into a war zone… we put the bastard somewhere safe and he still decides to go for a stroll!" The Magistrate muttered something that sounded suspiciously foul-mouthed under his breath before sighing and continuing. "If he gets caught, it is no concern of ours. Moreover, we knew _nothing of him_. Understand, Jim? The zerg are our top priority anyway."

"Right," said Jim as he ducked back out of the clinic and closed the door behind him carefully. "Well, I'm gonna wish him luck in any case. Any idea what Duke wants me to do?" Jim looked at the small horde of power-armored individuals assembled in the middle of Rushtown, the dropships still among them. _He conscripted this lot quick… hope we're not bound for a damn meat grinder._

"You can ask the man himself," said the Magistrate. "I told him to wait until I knew you were ready. Have all of those drop ships arrived?"

"Oh yeah. I got more people than I know what to do with, Commander," said Jim, trying to conceal his anxiety at being responsible for so many.

"Well," came Duke's drawl from inside Jim's helmet. "It's about time. I rounded up as many yokels as I could. Checked their files, they're all vets. Couldn't find much on you though, Marshal, but these hicks seem fond enough of ya. Half of 'em signed up the instant we mentioned your name."

"Right," said Jim, privately thanking old Hammond for wiping his old army records. "I know how to handle myself, General. What're you gonna do with all these marines?"

"Got a tank column to the south of here," said Duke, suddenly sounding oddly enthusiastic. "They're in need of support. Them flying bat bastards been tearin' up my armored divisions, and I ain't found a real way to deal with 'em. You're to follow 'em along, make sure the skies are clear. Ya'll got enough guns and ammunition, and I'm frankly tired of dealin' with you backwards fringe folk, so I'm givin' the Magistrate the command, here. Don't screw this up."

The end of Duke's little speech was cut slightly short as the line went dead. Jim breathed a small sigh of relief. _Better the uptight Core Worlder you know than the one you don't. _Jim heard the Magistrate sigh.

"Alright, Marshal. I'm already swamped with these evacuation efforts. I'm sending you the coordinates and leaving it to you. Bring back home as many people as you can. Good luck." _Well, they were pretty damn quick about handing me the reigns._

Jim glanced at the readout and saw that the tank column was two miles away. _Not so bad._ Jim heard the roar of engines, and the dropships began to lift from the soil, startling the people closest. As they began to leave, the assorted marines and firebats looked at him expectantly. With the noise of the engines fading into the distance, Jim began to speak.

"Alright boys and girls," said Jim, hearing his voice reflecting back at him through the radios built into everyone else's suits. "Our primary objective is to keep a siege tank column secure from aerial threats. Some of you were here from last night, and know how bad it can get. Just stay calm and stay close; we'll get through this. Let's roll."

There was some hooting and hollering at this, but Jim noticed the undercurrent of anxiety running through his people. To his lack of surprise however, Buck and Allen, now clad in CMC suits, seemed just as enthusiastic as before and joined him at the front of the crowd.

"Them bugs sure gave us a run for our money last time Jim," said Allen. "But this time, we done brought us some siege tanks!"

"Right," said Buck. "Because wars is always won by tanks. Them zerg don't use any damn tanks, and they's doin' just fine!"

"Sorry about draggin' ya'll into this, fellas," said Jim in between breaths while their feet pounded dirt. "Wasn't my intention to have you gentlemen fight a war."

"Shit Jim," said Buck, apparently not out of breath at all. "Now I _have_ an excuse to get drunk. No need to 'pologize!"

"You get me in one of them tanks, I'll call it good," said Allen.

With the assistance of the power armor, they made good time to the tank column. Before them stood eight siege tanks trundling along, flanked by a handful of Confederate marines. These marines stared in disbelief as Jim's group got closer. When they finally met face to face, Jim addressed the lieutenant in charge.

"Howdy. We're here to keep the zerg off your backs, keep the tanks safe. We'll try not to get in your way."

The lieutenant's visor retracted, revealing the scarred and perplexed face of an older gentleman.

"I was expecting a handful of drunk old cowboys – that's what I was told would probably show up," said the lieutenant.

"Yeah well, it's a bit more than a handful," said Jim. "Let's get this show on the road."

Ranger and 'Fed alike strode side by side, a few chatting, most silent. From what Jim could gather, most of the 'Fed marines weren't sure what they were up against. Buck and Allen got into another disagreement regarding "the mighty firebat's place in the infantry hierarchy" and fell behind. The Confederate lieutenant walked alongside Jim and tried to explain what to expect.

"I haven't fought these things yet," said the lieutenant, "but I was told they're spreading fast, and like it up close and personal."

"That they do," said Jim.

"You know what to expect then, sir?"

_Sir? That's new…_

"Jim's fine," said Jim. "Can't recall a time I ever been a "sir." All I can say is, these zerg like to come in up close, and they come in groups. They also like to hide underground, so keep an eye on your six."

"Right," said the lieutenant, sounding decidedly unhappy. "I also heard that there are other aliens runnin' around. Got anything on that?"

_Well, there was one ugly sucker that I saved and hid in a clinic. But what with the evacuation ruckus, he opened a kitchen window and ran away._

"Nope," said Jim cheerfully. "We've only had to tangle with zerg so far. It's been quite enough."

"Well, these siege tanks might level the playing field some," said the lieutenant in a cautiously hopeful tone,

Jim hoped that was the case. The rest of the short trip was spent in relative silence; the only sound Jim could hear being the siege tanks' diesel engines. As Jim kept pace with the tanks, he idly scanned the horizon for threats. The only thing he noticed out of place were the silhouettes the column was heading towards. _Might be them organic structures the Magistrate mentioned._

Shortly after thinking that, the column came to a halt as the soil and dirt gave way to a strange purple substance coating the ground. Jim marched forward and toed the edge of it with his boot. When there was no reaction, he stepped on top of it, began stamping his foot up and down. _Nothing._

"Looks like it's safe, whatever it is," said Jim. "This far from where we have to set up, lieutenant?"

"Nope," said the lieutenant, voice trembling slightly. "We're not far. Stone 1, lead the column on to the… stuff. Set up and pick your targets, we got you covered."

"Proceedin'!" came the enthusiastic cry of Stone 1's driver, his vehicle lurching forward. The other tanks followed suit, their treads leaving no kind of indentation on the purple ground.

_Strong stuff. Don't want to know what it's made of, though._

"Think them critters know we're here, Jimmy?" asked Buck, who had come to the front of the column again.

"I don't doubt it," said Jim. "Keep your voices down. Good chance we're gonna get jumped."

The tanks came to a halt before spreading out. Jim eyed the strange structures, some quarter of a mile away. He thought he could see them gently moving, perhaps twitching, even from that distance. _Wonder what the hell those things are for._

"Stone 1, clampin' down! Get ready to plug your ears, kiddies!"

Jim saw Allen staring enviously as the siege tank began to hiss, the side pontoons emerging from the chassis and planting firmly in the ground. The Arclite cannon followed suit and quickly swiveled to the south. A blossom of flame and a deafening boom erupted from the tank, the entire vehicle shuddering from the recoil. In the distance, one of the structures spurted an enormous amount of blood, visible even at such a distance. The other siege tanks followed suit, and before long there was nothing left of the first target.

"One down!" cried one of the gunners. "Anticipate some action, ladies, we sure ain't alone out here. Continue barrage!"

Sure enough, Jim began to see some scuttling movement.

"This is it, boys and girls," said Jim, biting his lip as the visor slid down and he readied his rifle. "Form up and brace yourselves. Firebats in front – don't let 'em get to the tanks."

The marines shifted quickly, now mostly silent. The siege tanks dropped another structure, but the horizon was now filling with wheeling shapes, the air alive with distant screeches. When Jim looked downward, to the now scuttling ground, he uttered a low whistle. _We got a lotta firepower here… but holdin' off that initial bum rush might be beyond us._

In the distance, the zerg, in all their hundreds, in all their skittering rage, charged. Jim heard Stone 1 holler over the radio, and saw the now steaming carcasses of zerg thrown up from the ground in a red mist. All eight of the tanks fired into the throng of aliens, yet still the tide came in.

Jim's suit readout flashed red.

"IN RANGE!"

As one, the lines of marines began to fire into the zerg. The guns roared, occasionally overshadowed by the terrific thunder of the Arclites. The first line of zerg, the many critters on their all-fours, crumbled under the initial barrage. The second managed to advance a few feet further before likewise meeting their demise. The third however, barreled through the shredded corpses of their brethren and began to close the gap.

"BATS AND BAYONETS!"

The firebats, having stood to the side while the marines opened fire, now stood in front of the line, looking broad shouldered and angry. Buck stood to Jim's right, his wrists raised and ready. Jim continued to fire in bursts, his vision filled with the careening bodies of zerg.

"Stone 3, coming under fire! Got fuckers all over me! Up high!"

In all the excitement, Jim had missed the skies. The air overhead was now thick with leathery wings and shrieking forms. He raised his rifle and let loose, saw one of the creatures plummet. He turned almost all the way around, trying to thin out the airspace and make it theirs again.

"They's on us!" yelled Buck, and the air was filled with smoke and the sound of crackling flames. Jim turned and almost tripped as one of the smaller zerg bounded past him, aflame. Trying to stay centered in the midst of absurd chaos, Jim found a snake-mantis in his sights and let loose. Flakes of carapace flew from the creature as it flailed in pain and spurted blood. Jim could not finish the job however, as a critter launched itself at his face and he swatted it away with his rifle on reflex.

Jim saw the Confederate lieutenant head to head with a snake-mantis, his gun barrel alive. Shortly after, he was engulfed in flame as a siege tank operator took an ill-advised shot, leaving nothing afterwards but a small crater speckled with blood. _And he was so relieved to have them damn tanks at his side._

The line of marines, stiffened by the brazen Firebats, looked to be holding. Jim crushed a small zerg with a weighted boot and leaned on it as his gauss rifle ripped into the airborne critters. The siege tanks still held, and though Jim could see bodies strewn everywhere, the zerg were thinning out.

"We got this!" Jim cried to a few muffled cheers.

It was at that moment that everything went to hell. A thick orange cloud suddenly coated the area, reducing visibility to nothing. Jim's visor was already shut, meaning he didn't have to worry about being poisoned, but this still hardly helped because his readings suddenly went haywire.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" screamed a nearby marine, staggering past Jim with his rifle still firing. Silhouettes flew past Jim, and he could hear muffled cursing. A gout of flame erupted nearby, and he saw the dull shape of a snake-mantis rearing before it.

Jim's head turned frantically within his suit as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. The earth nearby rocked as a tank round exploded nearby, and Jim saw a severed arm fly past him in a bloody arc.

"I can't see anything," said Jim through the radio. "We need to get clear of this cloud!"

The radio then filled with the cries of wounded and scared marines, and Jim heard the bloodcurdling scream of a grown man in horrible pain far too close by for comfort. _This just got bad, fast._

"This is Stone 1, we's fallin' back, repeat, we is fallin' back. Recommend all present to _haul ass_. You see a tank rollin' by, follow it!" Jim saw a tank nearby, but when he got closer, it was motionless and covered in holes and scorch marks. He could hear other tanks retracting their pontoons, but his suit's readings were still haywire and he couldn't see shit.

As Jim stumbled blindly about, he ran into a crazed firebat who almost set him alight in surprise.

"That Jimmy?" asked the firebat, panicked. "Son, this op ain't gone good! Where the hell are-"

The Firebat was cut off by another nearby siege tank round hitting the dirt. Jim grabbed the firebat by the arm as they were sprayed with the dust.

"I say we find a direction that ain't filled with zerg, and run it 'till we hit friendlies," said Jim urgently.

"After me," said the firebat, coughing and ploughing forward. Jim followed him while trying to radio to anyone who could hear.

"Everyone, _get clear of the cloud,_" said Jim. "It's screwin' up targeting and lettin' these bastards cut through us. Protect the tanks if you can. Siege tanks, cease your goddamn fire, you're killin' marines ou-"

Jim was promptly cut off by yet another siege tank round. When the ringing in his ears subsided, he heard the tail end of a siege tank pilot's rant.

"…a damn Alpha Squadron siege tank ordered around by some fringe world yokel! Ya'll's probably a bunch of re-soced psychopaths anyhow!"

_Charming_. _He's gonna blow every one of us to pieces._

The firebat suddenly lurched to the left, clutching his side. Jim grabbed his comrade and pulled an arm over his own shoulder. Together, the two of them hobbled forward at as much speed as they could muster. After a minute of this that was mercifully free of zerg, they escaped the orange cloud.

"You alright, man?" asked Jim, laying down the firebat as best he could.

"Somethin' hit me," the firebat gasped, power-armored fingers closing and unclosing over his side. Jim looked and saw several large puncture marks in the suit. Blood oozed from the wounds, and when the Firebat retracted his visor, his sweaty face was wracked with pain.

"We're clear man, we're clear," said Jim, heart sinking. "Hey, this is Jimmy, broadcasting from these coordinates, anyone else make it out? I got a wounded man with me!"

"Marshal Raynor, this is Stone 6," came the reply. "Not too many made it. Zerg backed off once we were clear of the cloud, and we're retreatin' with what's left of your marines. We cannot, repeat, _cannot_ reach your coordinates, and are callin' the sun down on this hive. Suggest you put some distance between yourself and them zerg, this earth's about to get cooked."

"You're callin' what?"

"Nukes, boy. We are nukin' the shit out of the zerg."

Jim swore and, with the firebat's labored assistance, got him back to his feet. The orange cloud was dissipating quick, and Jim saw they had put a considerable distance between themselves and the hive. Together, the pair of them staggered away from the op zone. No other living things were in sight, and everything had gone still and quiet. To Jim's left was empty space, no landmarks or cover. To Jim's right was a sheer drop that Jim had no chance of bringing the firebat down safely.

"Stone 6, when are the nukes droppin'?" asked Jim. _Somethin' I really want to know about._

Jim got no response. He was left the impression that he had been written off as dead. The firebat was growing heavier and heavier, and Jim could not carry him much farther. Over the sounds of his belated breath, the only sound was that of wind… and a strange beeping coming from down the cliff they were struggling past.

"Hey, is someone down there? It's Jim Raynor, I need help!"

Jim heard no response. The beeping continued. He heard the firebat murmur something.

"What's that, man?"

"Just, throw us both down there, Jimmy, 'scape the blast. I'll be okay. 's all gon' be okay…"

With the threat of an imminent nuke at their back, Jim hobbled over to the cliff side and, after warning the firebat to land as best he could, made a controlled fall.

They fell about twenty feet, half sliding against the cliff as they went. While Jim's knees bent as he landed safely, the firebat made it about halfway before tumbling down, lying horribly still as he crashed to the bottom.

_Sorry man. Better way to die than a nuke._

Jim checked his life signs anyway, found them fading quick. He muttered a quick prayer before whipping around with his gun at the ready when he heard something scrabbling against the rock.

Beaky, dusty and forlorn, stared back at him with confused eyes. Behind him was a beeping device, a pointy metal bit set straight upwards.

_Now, I'm no expert on alien tech, or any tech really, but this fella looks like he's phonin' home._

"Hell of a way to repay me and Harvey's hospitality man," said Jim. "You picked a bad spot to set up, whole area is about to be nuked to hell."

Beaky simply backed away from Jim, putting his body between him and the transmitter.

_Fuck it. At this stage, I'd welcome a few more bodies to throw against the zerg. Now it's my turn to repay the favor of not being shot._

"Well man," said Jim, leaning against a canyon wall and staring at the slumped form of the Firebat, "I gotta be honest. At this stage, I'm kinda glad to see you're okay."

Beaky looked like he was going to say something back, but stopped himself. He fell back further and sat next to the device, eyes fixed on Jim, who let out a heavy sigh.

After a few moments of awkward interspecies silence, Jim's radio came alive with noise… but it was different. Beaky cocked his head, and Jim thought he saw a glimmer of understanding flash through as a strange voice boomed into the silence.

"Attention terran forces; I am Executor Tassadar of the protoss. This planet is heavily infested and your forces are being beaten back. In light of recent events, this planet must be held against oncoming alien fleets. I kindly ask you all to prepare for full planetary evacuation so that my people might fully deal with the zerg."

Jim blinked a few times, checked if he was dreaming. Beaky, oddly enough looked just as confused. Then, to Jim's horror, Edmund Duke began broadcasting back.

"Now listen here you goddamn alien _puke_, I'm General Edmund Duke of the Confederacy, and I didn't come here to be pushed around by every high and mighty alien that thinks they can just take what they want from us. Now – uh, can you hear me?"

There was a pause, and then the voice rebounded through the radio again.

"Much to my sorrow, yes."

"Right. Anyhow, ya'll are trespassing on Confederate airspace. Ain't Chau Sara enough for you, you godless bastards? I seen men ripped apart by you mouthless fucks, and I ain't about to let you have a single inch of terran soil without bleedin' ya for it first."

"General Duke," said the voice in tones as if it were addressing a child. "I am not offering you a real choice. The zerg expansion must be halted, and your people are ill-equipped. If I must burn you and your pathetic fleets to the ground to accomplish my task, then so be it."

"Bring it on, you alien bitch."

Jim felt his teeth hum, and then something blue flashed in the sky above him. When he craned his neck to look up within the power armor, he saw a dozen sleek golden ships flying towards the hive.

"Well, this has gone to hell, huh?" said Jim, turning to Beaky, who, to his surprise, was glaring at the ships with naked hatred in his fierce eyes. Then, as the ships disappeared from sight, the transmitter began to beep loudly.

Beaky's gaze met with Jim's, and Jim watched at what was clearly a naked smile appeared on his alien companion's face while he pointed up towards the skies.


	10. As the World Watched

**Alexei**

Within the space of two days, Alexei and Gerard had put out the word that a major discovery had been made, one that would change the course of human history. Naturally, the two of them had then been subjected to a great deal of scrutiny by UPL officials, particularly when they continued to refuse to reveal just what had been found.

To continue to maintain secrecy, Alexei had personally assumed control of the three Special Projects stations responsible for monitoring the Koprulu Sector, something that had not gone unnoticed by other prominent UPL members. From what Alexei had heard, the general consensus among the uninformed was that this was probably some news about the colonials deciding to try and make a return to earth, that it was not a big deal, and that "alarmist Alexei" would be shot.

_Not quite, my friends. Not quite._

The broadcast was to be made from Paris, at Gerard's request. The two of them were the first to arrive and promptly got to business. Alexei took it upon himself to manage security, while Gerard was told to memorize the speech Alexei had written for him on the flight over. After a day of preparation, they were ready. Alexei sat sweating before a vast array of monitors, each linked to a camera that surveyed every inch of the building. Behind him, Gerard finished reciting the final lines of the speech, having memorized them flawlessly.

"…the time for humanity to step forward, and fight for glorious victory among hostile stars."

Alexei turned back to his friend, hat askew, smiling.

"A fine delivery, old friend," said Alexei. "You spoke those words as though they were an undeniable truth."

Gerard was dressed resplendently in an officer's uniform. His two most prominent medals of service adorned his tailor-made outfit. His cap sat square on his head, outlining his strong jaw and overall stern expression. It also added to his already impressive height; he towered over Alexei, even when he was not seated in his chair. The cap only made that more obvious. _Admiral Gerard DuGalle, hero of the United Powers League, a man to be recognized and a man to be feared._

Gerard coughed, looking uncomfortable. "I would still argue memorization is not necessary, Alexei. Teleprompters are, in my eyes, a necessary evil."

Alexei turned back to his monitors, craving a strong drink. "I have caught no less than seven Brazilian attempts to stop this gathering of officials, Gerard. I will not have you made a laughing stock if they manage to somehow sabotage the teleprompters – this message must be heeded!"

Gerard gave a heavy sigh. "Very well, Alexei. While I do not quite share your, well, paranoia regarding Brazil's capabilities, I am more than willing to listen. As far as I am concerned, you are the one humanity's hopes currently rest on. To be honest, I do not understand why you brought me here."

_How humble of you, admiral. Let me break it down for you._

"Look to this monitor, Gerard," said Alexei, patting a screen to his far right. Gerard walked over, peering over Alexei's shoulder. "Tell me what you see."

"I see this office," said Gerard, sounding utterly perplexed. "I see you sitting in your chair, and myself standing over you."

"I will tell you what I see, Gerard," said Alexei, taking a deep breath. "I see two men. There is one ratty looking bastard with a finished cigar still smoking in the ashtray to his left. His hair is greasy looking. He has a mean look in his eyes and when he stands, it is obvious he is neither tall nor does he possess great strength. When he speaks, it is with a prominent accent and a voice that is neither pleasant nor unpleasant." Gerard began to speak, but Alexei raised a hand and cut him off.

"Behind this unexceptional and rather hairy looking man stands another figure, tall and stern. He wears the officer's uniform of the UPL well, both cap and coat. His face features a strong jaw and sharp eyes. When he speaks, it is with the self-assured authority of a man who has lead soldiers into battle. While he possesses a slight accent due to where he was born, it does not detract from his presence or his ability to communicate. I would follow this man."

Alexei turned away from the screen and to the real Gerard, who looked stunned.

"Do you understand my point, my good admiral?" Alexei asked, quietly.

"Surely…" Gerard struggled for a few seconds, trying to think of what to say. "Surely you do not feel this way, Alexei? Your own accomplishments warrant praise of their own – and I remember quite clearly who scored higher on the aptitude tests back at-"

"Gerard, look at us," said Alexei, standing from his chair. "You are almost a head taller than me. Yes, I am aware of my own service to the UPL, to humanity. However, as the vast majority of these services are classified, not many will ever be aware of them. But… it doesn't matter." Alexei looked back to the monitors. "What they see on the cameras, their immediate disposition towards whomever is speaking – that is based on appearances. That is what matters. Not what either of us might deserve. That is why I need you, Gerard. To carry my message in a way I never could."

When Alexei turned again to Gerard, the admiral nodded stiffly to him.

"Very well, Alexei. On my word as an admiral – and your friend – I will do this for you," said Gerard.

Alexei grinned back at him, removed his hat, and saluted. "Then get out of here, my good admiral and friend. It starts in twenty minutes."

Gerard strode out of the office while Alexei sat himself down and fumbled in a coat pocket for a cigar. He saw his friend walk through several hallways over the cameras. When Alexei checked the auditorium, he saw that it was almost full. On the balconies above, he caught a glimpse of an armed silhouette – one of the many members of Alexei's security team.

Alexei laid the cigar on the desk for later while donning a headset.

"Sputnik here, now overseeing the operation entire until the speech is done. All teams report status."

The teams chimed in, their voices sounding electronic and ghostly through the vocoders.

"Sparrow 1, courtyard has considerable civilian presence. Meeting has attracted great interest. Scanning crowd."

"Sparrow 2, primary hallway clear."

"Sparrow 3, secondary hallways are clear. Continuing patrol."

"Sparrow 4, auditorium secure."

_About what I expected._

Sparrow 4 had the most important job by far – hence he had given that job to Saburov and Baker, his two bodyguards. The remainder of the teams were the finest ghosts Alexei had worked with and could bring to Paris on short notice. Thus far they had performed their job quickly and thoroughly, which was all Alexei ever asked for. He leaned back in his chair, scanning the monitors with narrowed eyes. Despite the security room being ice-cold at his request, Alexei found himself sweating.

_The worst of it is already over. The Brazilians have far more limited resources than the UPL. Nothing will happen to Gerard._

"Sparrow 1, noting suspicious character moving along left edge of crowd."

Sighing, Alexei found the monitor that showed the individual they were speaking of. He wore no outfit and his face was unobscured, but he was clearly inching his way to the front, pushing civilians to the side in order to advance."

_A bad time and a bad place for suspicious activity, friend._

"Take no chances," said Alexei. "Execute."

"Confirmed."

From one of the screens to his right, Alexei caught a glimpse of a small muzzle flash. A puff of red appeared behind the suspicious man in the crowd. The man's eyes widened before he went boneless, falling like a rag doll, the gaping hole now clearly visible on his back when he hit the ground. People screamed and moved away from the corpse while Parisian police moved in to secure the body. The civilians, used to the ways of the UPL, quickly forgot about the corpse once the law enforcement had descended.

"Sparrow 1, police forces searched the body and found no weapons nor any kind of suspicious possessions. Not sure what he was up to."

Alexei shrugged, feeling nothing. _All it would take to bring about the destruction of my mission would be a single ounce of mercy given to the wrong individual. The fate of human history rides on my decisions._

"Sparrow 4, all officials present. DuGalle begins speech in 30 seconds."

_I almost wish I had given this job to someone else… looking at the recordings of the speech after the actual thing cannot be compared to witnessing it firsthand._

"Sparrow 3, uh, looks like one of the toilets flooded," said Sparrow 3, obviously both incredulous and embarrassed. "Got some janitors wandering around with mops."

"Keep an eye on them," said Alexei irritably. He could see one of the idiots nodding at the two team members as they went by. Another walked into the view of the camera, put down a wet floor sign, and then rolled a large yellow box with a mop sticking out of it into the bathroom.

Alexei turned his attention to the auditorium screen, where Gerard had just strode to the podium. He tapped the mic twice, and the crowd went silent. Baker and Saburov still circled the floor above, gazing down from shrouded balconies. Alexei felt himself recite the first few words of the speech alongside Gerard, feeling a shiver as his friend's voice boomed through the silence.

"Ladies, gentlemen, all of humanity. Today is the day our history shakes, the day the course of our species changes once again. The UPL is a venerable institution that once took dire measures to rescue our species from its own excesses. While it succeeded in that endeavor, it came at the cost of stagnating human progress. Our sole attempt at creeping from this crowded solar system was at the behest of someone who is now well-renowned as a madman; it was little more than a petty genocide conducted by a hateful little scoundrel."

"Since then, we have only turned to the stars to look at the few extra-terrestrial colonies we can claim, such as Mars and Phobos. We kept an eye on our wayward colonists, if only to note the time and date of their death. But not only have they survived, they have finally accomplished that which we never could."

Alexei smiled. At this very instant, the observatories across the globe were uploading the video clips, now numbering in the dozens, of their proof. The entire world would see that at last, there was a real reason to huddle together and hate the darkness. _If we do not ally, do not make ourselves stronger together, who is to say these beings will not wipe us out? Unity through fear._

Alexei started as two gunshots came from another monitor – Parisian police had executed someone.

"Sparrow 1, report."

"Drug dealer, told us they'd been looking for this guy for ages - unrelated matter," said Sparrow 1 without emotion. "Looks like it might have stirred up the hornet's nest though…"

The crowd was scattering, but there were shouts and screams. The Parisian police had now formed a proper riot line, and one man stood atop the steps up to the government building and begin yelling into a megaphone, alternating between English and French. Alexei saw a flash from a silhouette in the crowd and the man fell, wounded. Then all hell broke loose.

"Sparrow 1," said Alexei, watching the beginnings of a large scale riot form before his eyes, "get inside the building and let the police handle this. Bar the door and head to the auditorium."

"Copy that."

Alexei caught another brief snippet of Gerard and tried to remember where he was in the speech.

"…of life beyond us, of civilizations beyond us. They have proven themselves belligerent, and assault these people – our colonists – without provocation or warning. We have seen into the void and found these creatures already crawling up to consume us. Humanity must stand together before this…"

"Sparrow 3, suspicious persons in western hallway. Checking it out."

Alexei gritted his teeth and considered turning off the monitor overseeing the courtyard – the noise was ungodly, and now he could only see smoke, gunshots, and struggling outlines of people. He looked for Sparrow 3 and found the pair of them approaching one of the janitors from before.

Alexei glanced back at the auditorium, caught a glimpse of either Saburov or Baker learning down behind a balcony.

"Found something, Sparrow 4?"

Alexei thought he heard something muffled on the mic before one of them responded.

"C- uh, sorry, come again, sir?"

Alexei suddenly had a lurching, sinking feeling in his stomach. _Couldn't be._ He made sure his line was directed only to Sparrow 4 and then said, very clearly: "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori." _How sweet indeed._

There was a brief pause before Sparrow 4 responded, "Uh, come again, sir?"

_That's not Saburov or Baker. _

"All Sparrows, Code Red, repeat, Code Red," said Alexei, remaining calm. "I just issued a kill phrase to Sparrow 4 and neither of them reacted. They are imposters. Converge on auditorium and-"

There were more muffled gunshots – the maintenance workers had produced guns only to be swiftly dispatched by Sparrow 3. _Quick and thorough._

"This is Sparrow 1, people are trying to get in!"

"_Get to the auditorium!_" snarled Alexei. "We _cannot_ lose Gerard!"

Alexei then quickly cleared his throat, and relayed orders again to the false Sparrow 4, who had heard none of the ruckus.

"Sparrow 4, keep an eye on your corners. We have rogue maintenance workers and a riot outside. Preserve the UPL Central Cabinet at all costs." _That should buy Gerard some time – if they start shooting, he won't be at the forefront of their minds._

"Understood."

The three teams were dashing through the building at all speed. However, as Sparrow 1 rounded a corner, they were immediately confronted by four men in unfamiliar spec-ops armor.

"Son of a-"

Sparrow 1 went down; both members quickly drilled three times in the chest before being shot twice again in the head. Alexei watched with dead eyes, thankful that at the very least the auditorium was still locked and sound-proofed. _None of you will escape this revelation._

Part of him was tempted to just leave – the main goal of the mission was already accomplished. New leaders, leaders possibly decided by Alexei himself, could be put into place. He could select people who would turn their backs on the stagnant policies of the UPL in favor of a new order that would propel humanity forward.

_But I'd lose Gerard._

There was not really a choice. Alexei took off his hat and put on the headset that Gerard had insisted he have there "just in case." _Building is sealed off. Brazilian teams running rampant, one team down and one team compromised… it's a good day to die._

"Sparrow 2 and 3, proceed with caution," said Alexei, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Brazilian specialists are on site and have already taken out Sparrow 1. I am moving from my position to help secure these hallways – we only need keep them from getting in for another seven minutes at the most, but someone needs to remove the imposters." _And if I tell anyone what's going on in the auditorium, those bastards start shooting. How the hell did they get this far?_

Alexei ignored the responses of the Sparrows and stepped to the arms locker, procuring a deadly looking _Harbinger_ rifle. _Best I can do without a combat suit. Need to be careful._

Sighing, he carefully opened the exit door and began jogging down the hall, feeling his rifle slide in his grip.

"Sparrow 2, wounded three guys and are in pursuit! They're yelling in Portuguese."

"Sparrow 3, pinned down. Sir, you best get to that auditorium fast. I think they've got a bomb."

Alexei imagined Gerard still spouting the words he had written for him, blissfully unaware of the people fighting, bleeding, and dying outside of his little audience.

_Need to get to the second floor._

A stunned looking janitor almost collided with Alexei. He opened his mouth to speak, hands raised, but Alexei squeezed the trigger twice and watched the blood spatter the wall behind the janitor as the man collapsed bonelessly.

Alexei sprinted now, carrying himself further toward the stairs. He could hear yells from the floor above him, heard muffled thuds.

"Sparrow 3, man down! They're headed for the balconies!"

Alexei smashed the door to the stairs open and careened up them, heart thudding in his chest. When he shoved open the second floor door, it was to find two spec ops turning toward him, a yellow janitorial bin loaded with a beeping package between them.

His hands slick with sweat, Alexei quickly jerked his rifle into position and fired into the pair of them. One yelled as his shoulder was hit before going down with a gurgle, and the other charged toward Alexei. Alexei redirected his fire and saw a graze, but the recoil was too much and it was too fast to keep track – the Brazilian lifted Alexei off his feet as he barreled into him, trailing blood. The two fell into a grunting, biting mess.

Alexei came out on top and pinned the Brazilian's arms with his knees, drawing a fist back and driving it into the man's stomach. Alexei felt a crunch and a sudden pain in his hand as the knuckles connected with something made of metal, and the man broke free, quickly standing as Alexei clutched his whitened knuckles.

They stared at each other, both breathing heavily as Alexei's pain came in low throbs, and the man's leg bled continuously. When Alexei tried to stand, the Brazilian lurched forward and tried to aim a kick at Alexei, only to fall slightly off-balance and miss. Alexei, unwilling to try and punch a man wearing any amount of armor, instead dove forward and found the wound with his thumb, driving the digit into it and feeling a sadistic glee as he did so.

The man howled and twisted, but Alexei was on top of him again and drove a finger into the wound as well, feeling the blood running in crimson rivulets down his sweaty hands.

_Die, damn you. DIE IN PAIN._

The man's hand found Alexei's arm and, with effort, wrenched it free, leaving Alexei tumbling to the side with a bright red hand. He laughed, even though his foe was stronger than him, even as his foe began to stand again, because Alexei had ended up right next to his foe's rifle.

Grabbing it, he swung at the man's head with an arcing blow, cracking him across his mask. The lens shattered, and the man fell twitching to the floor. Alexei fell on his enemy again, clubbing him over and over and over with his gun, until both the weapon and the victim's skull were a ruined mess. He stood, panting, over his fallen opponent.

_Still have to move…_

The other Brazilian lay still, several holes still trickling blood from the freshly formed cavities in his chest. Another rifle lay beside him.

Alexei took it, only barely registering it as some sort of Southern American Coalition carbine, hearing only Sparrow 2 and 3 reporting themselves wounded but victorious while he sprinted again, almost slipping on blood, to the doors that lead to the balconies above the auditorium.

When he burst through the doors to the other side, he was immediately confronted by one of the imposters, who jerked backwards and began to aim his rifle. Alexei, not even sure where his hands were, squeezed the trigger so tight he thought it would break. The subsonic rounds seemed to cut through the imposter in slow motion, the blood blossoming before his eyes in a way that was beautiful. The man looked down in shock, and Alexei could see his eyes were wide behind the lenses. The imposter fired his own rifle, even as his legs gave way, and Alexei felt pressure on his chest through the haze of red.

The world turned around Alexei as he heard his own ragged gasps. Behind the now slumped form of the first imposter was the second, now looking down his sights at the assembled politicians. Alexei brought up his own rifle again and fired three times, noticing afterward that his wrists were now soaked in blood and he had no idea why.

The crowd roared and the man fell; Alexei swore he could feel the pain and dismay of the false-Baker's final moments. His own weapon fell from his lifeless fingers and he fell forward, caught only by the balcony railing. Crimson droplets fell from him on to the crowd below, and he saw the assembled politicians recoiling in shock and disgust as he stared down at them. He looked up; saw Gerard staring from the podium.

"Alexei?"

Alexei drew himself up as best as he could.

"Well?" he snarled to the rest of the politicians, pointing to the still image of an alien vessel behind Gerard. "Get on with it!"

Alexei Stukov began to turn but his legs gave way and he fell to his knees, staring in blank shock at a sucking chest wound.


	11. Zero Hour

**James**

The promised nuke never arrived. Shortly after the protoss announcement and the sudden appearance of their fleet, all Jim could hear were the distant shrieks and sizzles of dying zerg. Whoever these protoss were, they didn't mess around when it came to war.

Beaky had retreated next to his device, having grown tired of pointing skyward. The beeping had intensified, though Jim was relieved to see there were no further alien fleets to be seen.

"Hey Commander," said Jim as the distant booms of the protoss assault continued to echo in the still air, "this is Jimmy. Still alive, but not as optimistic. Can you get us on a private band?"

"Raynor?" said the Magistrate, the strain in his voice all too evident. "Things are not going well. Hold on. Just use the regular law enforcement channel – everyone's tied up using Confederate frequencies."

Jim swapped frequencies, making sure to keep an eye on Beaky.

"Guess who I found, Commander?" asked Jim.

"No time for games, Raynor. Just give me a sitrep and your location – I need you back in the city," said the Magistrate, stressed.

"Our little runaway alien friend," said Jim. "He holed himself up in a canyon with some kind of transmitter. I would anticipate more company soon enough. Oh, and uh, transmitting location."

"Wonderful," said the Magistrate in a very tired voice. "I'm sending a dropship with orders to pick the two of you up. If he really has called for friends, perhaps we can score points with them for fair treatment. He hasn't attacked you?"

"Naw," said Jim, noting Beaky's attentiveness to a conversation he couldn't even understand. "He's on the level. He's also probably more desperate than we are. Oh, and any idea what happened to that nuke?"

"The ghost didn't survive the protoss," said the Magistrate shortly. "Dropship in two minutes. If it gets shot down, you're SOL – I can't pull any more of these ships from evac duty."

"You're all heart, Commander," said Jim. "I'm sure Beaky's looking forward to getting the hell out of here."

The Magistrate had already left the line. Raynor swapped back to the Ranger's frequency.

"Hey, this is Jimmy. Looks like I might make it," said Jim, sounding calmer than he felt. "You boys and girls get out of there safe?"

"Jim!" came the familiar holler of Buck. "I done toasted seventeen bugs, but them other aliens make me look like a wuss – they set that entire hive on fire! We're clear of the action, headin' back to Mar Sara City. We gon' see you there?"

"Don't doubt it," said Jim, a smile creeping on to his face. "Them 'feds treatin' you okay?"

"These siege tank operators are assholes!" said Allen, butting in on the conversation. "Back in my day, if we was gonna mulch our own marines, we asked first!"

"I hear ya," chuckled Jim. "I'll see you on the other side." Jim turned back to Beaky.

"Help's coming." He beckoned, his massive armored arms motioning for Beaky to follow. The alien's eyes narrowed. "We gotta go, man."

Beaky looked back to his little emitter and said something in his little alien language. He turned away from the device and looked Jim in the face. Expressionless, he pointed to his contraption, and then pointed straight down at the ground.

"Right, man. Sure. Whatever. It can stay where it is." _We need all the help we can get against the zerg… don't know about them protoss._

Jim trudged out of the canyon, mouthing a silent prayer for the fallen firebat as they went by. When he checked behind him, Beaky was following. _Guess I got myself a knack for alien communication. That weren't so hard._

When they emerged together at the end of the canyon, the dropship was already almost on them.

Flying low and fast, it was clear the pilot was not happy to be in the area. When Jim looked back toward where he had been chased from, he could see why.

Fleshy debris littered the earth a few hundred yards from where they stood. Huge spatters of blood coated the purple ground, which seemed to be retreating and dying off as they watched. Massive smoking craters sat smoldering where the zerg had once stood, surrounded by mounds of the still twitching wings and talons of fallen aliens. There was no sign of the protoss, and if they had taken casualties, it was not evident.

_Goddamn. Who needs nukes?_

Beaky fell back slightly, an arm covering his face as the dropship came in close. The ramp slid out while the hatch opened, a pair of militia beckoning for the two to get in.

"Fuck, you're ugly!" yelled one of them as Beaky shouldered past, apparently unintimidated by the hulking marines.

"I swear, man, he's got a heart of gold," said Jim, buckling himself in.

"Badass and Ugly are aboard," screamed the militia to the pilot. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

The dropship took off jerkily. The two militiamen had taken a seat to either side of Jim, each staring intently at the alien.

"Magistrate tell you anything about what's going on?" asked Jim.

"We was paid not to ask," said the fella on his right, eyes never leaving the sullen figure of the alien. "He seems a sight more personable then them zerg."

"And he ain't pretentious like them protoss neither," said the fella on the left.

_Aww. He's makin' friends already._

"Marshal," said the Magistrate over the radio, making Jim feel guilty for not immediately reporting in. "You get aboard safely?"

"Me and our mutual friend are safe," said Jim. "We're headin' back now. You got any updates on the situation?"

There was a very noticeable pause.

"Sending a video uplink."

A soft holoscreen live image appeared before Jim's face, broadcast by his suit. The upper corner read **Mar Sara – Sat 3**. For a moment, Jim wasn't sure what he was staring at – all he could see were flashes and the occasional bit of debris flying by. After a few seconds of confusion, he managed to get a grasp of what was going on.

To the left, an array of battlecruisers fired barrage after barrage of lasers at flickering ships around them. As Jim watched, one charged a Yamato blast and sent it flying to the right of the screen at the opposition.

The opposition, from what Jim could see, was a dizzying array of golden ships. Some of the large ones just sat there, one crumbling from the Yamato, much to Jim's satisfaction. Other smaller golden ships were speeding towards the battlecruisers, unleashing a volley of missiles, and then retreating out of range again.

"Looks like we're holding our own, commander," said Jim. "So… good news, right?"

"We?" said the Magistrate. The image changed to the desolate landscape of Mar Sara. In the distance, thousands of winged shapes wheeled about the horizon. "The Confederates are holding their own. _We_ are standing on the cusp of annihilation."

Jim checked where the feed was coming from. "Ah. Shit." _They're about to hit that refugee camp the Confederates set up._

"Did they at least set up some decent defenses?" asked Jim. "Or was it a typical Confederate fringe world rush-job?"

"Think about who is in command," said the Magistrate in acid tones, "and take a wild guess."

The dropship bucked slightly, causing the image to shudder slightly and give Jim a headache. He shut it off with a double blink.

"Did you at least tell the asshole what's going on?" said Jim.

"He said he couldn't hear me over the alien ships exploding," said the Magistrate. "Insert the phrase "damn fringe world yokel" wherever you please. We… we might have to evacuate Mar Sara."

"I can hear every damn word you two are sayin'," said Duke, making Jim's heart leap in his chest. "I've got good news for ya. I've got the order from High Command to pull out. 'Parently they're sick of all this expenditure on a pair of worlds we can really do without. So, ya'll don't have to put up with ol' Duke no more."

The dropship was slowing down.

"Touching down in two, stand by fellas, you're safe," said the pilot. The two militiamen to either side of Jim gave each other a high five. _Well, I'm guessin' they haven't heard the news that we're all gonna die just yet._

"You cannot be serious, General," said the Magistrate. "We could barely hold our own against the zerg, and now you expect us to contend with an alien fleet, alone?"

"There won't be much of a fleet left, soon enough," said Duke. "These ornery bastards got us licked on the ground, but they sure as shit weren't ready for the pride of Tarsonis!"

"We got people down here that need evac, General!" said Jim. "You just gonna leave us here to die?"

Jim heard Duke smacking his lips over the comm. "That a rhetorical question, Raynor? The answer should seem pretty obvious."

"Touchdown!" said the pilot, the dropship jerking to a halt. Jim practically ripped off his seatbelt and charged out of the still-opening hatch.

"Take him somewhere safe!" called back Jim, not sparing a glance for the two idiot militia or the alien they had been paid to not ask questions about. "General, don't you dare-"

"Sorry Marshal," said Duke coolly, "I'm all outta time. Ya'll got any ships to cram folk on and ship 'em somewhere else, I'd say you best do it. I ain't spendin' any more of my boy's lives to defend this place. For what it's worth… eh. To hell with it." Duke was gone.

Jim tore through the crowded streets of Mar City, trying not to shove aside anyone who looked like a refugee. People parted for him, occasionally yelling at him to ask about what was going on. Jim couldn't hear them, all he could think about was the roiling orange cloud, filled with the screams of zerg and dying men.

"Commander," he said, panting. "What the hell we gonna do?"

"I am broadcasting to anyone and everyone as far as the dish will allow," said the Magistrate. "I don't know if anyone will respond – the Protectorate is too far away, and the Combine are unlikely to care. First, though, we need to evacuate the refugee camp and bring them here."

Jim stopped, looked around. Duke had, as promised, fortified the city. Mighty missile turrets spun atop the tallest buildings, scanning the skies. Fresh bunkers, their frames still unscarred by weapons fire, squatted on every street corner. Siege tanks had also positioned themselves in opportune areas, though when Jim watched one, it slid itself out of siege mode and trundled off. _They ain't gonna leave any of the tanks._

"Alright, Commander," said Jim, feeling the sweat begin to roll down his face, "I'll do what I can. You got anything you can provide?"

"Dropships are already on it," said the Magistrate. "They just brought your Rangers back in. I can supply all the trucks you need."

"Got it," said Jim, "let me know… let me know if things get better."

"Good luck, Jim. Your alien friend just arrived, safe and sound," said the Magistrate. "If our call for distress does nothing, here's hoping that his does."

Jim swapped once again to the Ranger frequency.

"I'm back, boys and girls," said Jim. "We got folks to save."

Jim broke it down for them quickly, and then charged to the north exit of the city while reporting to the Magistrate where to send the convoy. As he stomped through the streets in his armor, he had a difficult time fathoming how they were going to cram any more people into the city. _Crowds of people at the doorways. Men fighting over cardboard boxes to take shelter under. I can't even sneeze without hittin' somebody. _

The Rangers had assembled just outside the city limits, lining either side of the weather-beaten road. Their armor, long unused, now looked pitted and scorched. Many of them had their visors up, and their expressions were both bloodied and worried.

"You drag us into the craziest situations, Jim," drawled Jenny, the same cigar from hours earlier still between her lips. "We're still gonna be fightin' zerg, right? Cause I wouldn't mind killin' a few 'Feds either."

"I oughta have ripped one of them damn pilots from their tanks," fumed Allen, a dampened red cloth over his left eye. "Yellow-bellied bastards!"

"This ain't the time," said Jim, though he was nodding in agreement. "We need to get to that refugee camp. And here come the trucks."

An enormous line of flatbeds rolled up to the marines. Reinforced to better allow for the transport of marines, a few had enormous machine guns mounted on the back, but many more did not.

"Two to a truck!" called Jim. "Twenty minute drive, there and back. You get a truck with a gun, use it. If not, you still got your C14's. Stay alert!"

Allen and Jim took the same truck. Jim let Allen man the machine gun in the hopes that it would feel somewhat like a siege tank. After three minutes on the road listening to Allen's bitching about the "puniness" of the gun, Jim was forced to conclude that it did not work.

"Commander," said Jim, watching open road zip by and trying to drown out Allen's complaints. "Can I get an update?"

"The protoss fleet has vanished, for the time being," said the Magistrate. "They did more damage to the zerg in that time than the Confederacy have in two days. Speaking of which, Duke has committed all his troops to pulling out."

"Yeah, course he has," muttered Jim. "No one's responded to our distress call yet?"

"I'm seeing a lot of radio chatter at Chau Sara," said the Magistrate. "But I have no idea who it is, and they're not sending anything back. I'll keep you briefed."

Jim nodded, listening to the rattling of the truck's metal. When he looked back, he could see a line of trucks that stretched back almost half a mile, the tops of marine's heads still visible even when sitting. They were closing in on the camp – Jim thought he could already smell the unwashed odor.

When they rolled in, Jim was unsurprised to see that the camp was little more than a large number of tents and a few hastily constructed bunkers. A sea of people descended on the trucks, crying out for help. Jim looked to the distant eastern horizon and saw the fast-approaching hell.

"ALRIGHT!" called out Jim, his voice magnified by the suit. "I know ya'll are scared, but this can't take more than three or four trips! Women and children first, I'm old-fashioned that way. Can anyone give man ETA on those z-"

Jim started as a distant gunshot echoed through the camp, accompanied by a muffled shriek.

"Never mind. Rangers! Secure the perimeter! Allen, stay on your gun and make sure that women and children get on first. Grab a bunker if you can, we're gonna be here for a bit!"

Jim dropped off the truck, people quickly scrambling for the flatbed as he departed. Dozens of marines hurried alongside him, guns almost at the ready while they ran towards the source of the shrieking. Beyond the camp, the winged creatures were getting closer.

The edges of the camp had mostly cleared out. A handful of men and women with armfuls of belongings were rushing toward the trucks. Jim wasn't sure whether they had stayed behind to secure more of their own stuff, or grab things that had been left behind by others.

Four marines carrying rifles with smoking barrels stood by a battered looking bunker that had been planted at the edge of the tents. The bunker sat astride the road, more rifles poking out from the slits.

One of the marines pointed to the small brown body of a nearby zerg.

"It was a scout, Jimmy. They's a comin', Jim, and the damn 'Feds done abandoned us!"

_Wish I had my damn vulture. Could plant some spider mines._

"Spread out, eyes on the skies! Don't let the little ones push past to the convoy!"

"Jim," said Allen over the radio. "We loaded up on women, children, and men pretendin' to be women and children. Drop 'em off and head back?"

"Do it!" Jim could hear the rumbling of many distant footsteps quickly approaching. The horizon was starting to move.

"I done this too many times this week," grunted Buck. "How the hell we gon' keep the fliers from just zippin' over and killin' folk?"

"By makin' a right sorry mess of 'em if they try," grunted Jim, rifle pointed at the crowd. _Not sure that will work._ To either side of him stood a solid line of marines and firebats, good men and women all. _And every one of us is like to die._

"Be prepared to fall back if need be," called out Jim. "Just don't turn your backs on these guys. Here they come!"

"Marshal Raynor," said a crisp voice over the comm. "This here is Major Tom Kazansky, Wraith Wing Charlie. You read me, over?"

"I read you, major!" called Jim, his trigger finger twitching as he looked down his sights. "Confederacy comin' back for us?"

"That's a big ol' negatory on that, Marshal," said Kazansky. "It's why we just went AWOL. You got twelve Wraiths at your disposal, loaded for bear and pissed as hell. Gimme your coordinates, and notify your Magistrate that we're gonna need a place to land after all this."

'_Bout time someone did the right thing._

"Major, need a cloaked strafe at these coordinates! How long can you boys stay invisible?"

"Marhsal, they won't know what hit 'em for the next forty minutes," said Kazansky. "Inbound."

Jim refocused on his sights. His suit notified him that the zerg were in range.

"Let's do this!" The loud bursts of rifles echoed through the camp. The initial charge of tiny zerg crumbled before the barrage. They were unfortunately replaced by the much, much larger ones with scythes.

Jim aimed at the face of the closest mammoth, his rifle shuddering in his tight grasp. Sparks flew from the mammoth's brow as the rounds struck it full in the face. It shook its face but did not slow.

"You got some big 'uns on ya," said Kazansky again. "Sparks, sparks, sparks."

Several shimmering silhouettes rocketed past the line of marines, barely visible lines of red descending in their wake. Zerg burned and howled in their wake, though the mammoths shrugged off the blasts.

"Boys, gonna need focus fire on the big guys," said Kazansky in a bored tone. "Raynor, suggest you back up, I don't fancy those odds in close quarters."

"Back up!" called out Jim. His marines hastened to do so, facing the zerg the whole way. Several of the cloaked Wraiths now danced above one of the mammoths, who tried to swat at nothing before collapsing in a smoldering heap.

"One down. Bastards can take some punishment. They're headin' for the bunker."

Despite Jim commanding a retreat, the men in the bunker had remained inside. The slits flashed as the smaller zerg surrounded it, exploding as the gauss rounds tore them apart. The bunker quickly became spattered with blood.

Jim advanced, focusing his fire on the earth around the bunker that he could see. Everywhere his bullets traveled, zerg burst in a shower of crimson fluid. Time began to blur as the tide of zerg was stemmed.

"Hey, Jim!" called out Allen over the comm, bringing him back to the living. "I'm back from the city. Place is gettin' crowded. Guess what the Magistrate done took from Duke?"

A shower of dirt erupted from a group of zerg, knocking them into the air.

"What was left of the Stone tank column, that's what!" yelled Allen joyfully. "Sittin' pretty on either side of the convoy – only need one more trip for the refugees, then we can pack up. Boys – hit the big ones."

One of the "big ones" promptly had its face blown apart by another Arclite round. Jim sighed with relief.

"Push up! Get that bunker clear of critters! Thanks, Allen."

The marines slowly advanced, inching across the ground they had just given up. The zerg fell, mopped up by small arms fire, tank shells, and several more strafes from Kazansky. Jim heard cheering from the refugees in the back.

A silence settled over the now corpse-strewn battlefield. The marines assembled at their original line, each glancing nervously at one another.

"It's all gone quiet," reported Jim into the radio. "Kazanky, you see anything?"

"Scanning…" said the Major. "Large number of air organisms. Several dozen, I'd say. Got three minutes left on cloak. Brace yourselves."

The winged zerg were finally making their push. Shrieking and snarling, they careened through the air. The silhouettes moved to meet them, Gemini missiles flying from their hidden batteries.

The creatures ignored them.

"Open fire!" screamed Jim. Muzzle flashes erupted all over the line, and more zerg fell from the sky in sprays of blood.

The creatures flew past them with all speed, making a beeline for the refugees.

"BACK UP! BACK UP!" Jim span on his heel and sprinted for the now screaming civilians. A man bowled into him and was knocked on his back as Jim stopped and shot into the furious swarm.

"They's all over us, Jim! Get so-" Allen's yell was cut off, and suddenly the radio was filled with ungodly shrieking. Jim looked to the nearest siege tank and saw that a gaping hole had been torn in its side. Blood sprayed from the hole, and a smaller crablike critter scuttled out of it.

_Sorry Allen. _Jim readied his rifle. Whatever it was, it didn't live long.

"Cloak's out," reported Kazansky, still sounding unimpressed. "Gone from a turkey shoot to a dogfight. Six is down, and I'm takin' hits."

The civilians were scattering as the winged creatures launched organic projectiles willy-nilly into the crowd. Most were aimed at the tanks, but Jim still saw a woman have her arm ripped off by an errant shot.

"Eight is down, four is down," said Kazansky, still cavalier. "Convoy en-route, can see it on scan. Ground targets making a push."

Jim turned around again. The horizon was beginning to get all skittery again.

"Marshal Raynor," said the Magistrate over the radio, "I may have secured us an escape. When the trucks arrive, grab a ride and head back."

Jim looked around and saw unarmed men and women alike scattering, screaming, and dying.

"Can't do that, Commander. Still too many-"

Jim was almost knocked off his feet as a Wraith crashed into the ground and slid through the earth. A woman who had been standing there, a gawk, was decapitated by one of the wings as it slid by.

Jim swore and reloaded. Aiming his gun at the still-wheeling fliers, he emptied several bursts into the swarm to no apparent effect. When he looked past the now trampled tents and at the road, he saw the approaching convoy. _No, I can still save these people._

"Jim!" called out Buck over the radio, his voice sounding strained. "I'm gettin' surrounded, and every time I look back we've lost another tank! Is Allen okay?"

"Jim," came the calm voice of Kazansky. "Just three of us left. We get taken out, we'll try to crash into the zerg. Uh, got any new orders?"

The trucks arrived, the mounted machine guns blazing.

"Marshal Raynor," said the Magistrate, his voice firm, "I've got a city full of people back here who are going to need you. Major Kazansky, fall back from the battlefield and find whatever starport strikes your fancy. I see no Stone units are still around..."

"Commander," said Jim, "I'm not going to-"

Jim was almost knocked off his feet as a marine sprinted for the trucks. Several more followed, Jenny among them. Jim looked around. His marines were falling back, ignoring his protests. The tanks had all been punctured by the crablike zerg, and Kazansky and his boys had swiftly departed, trailing smoke. At Jim's feet, an outstretched arm reached into the air, seemingly towards Jim. The man to whom the arm was attached to was quite dead, his bloodshot eyes staring lifelessly into Jim's, blood running down his face.

_Goddamn it._

"Pullin' out. Commander, I am pulling out." Jim clambered on to the back of a waiting flatbed. Jenny, cigar now lost, turned and spat a tooth at his feet.

"Some fights you just can't win Jim," said Jenny, sounding slightly garbled. "We saved some good folk. Lost some too. Time to go."

The trucks took off. The zerg pursued for a short while, but the machine guns were enough to deter them after a few casualties. Jim tried to plug his ears to the distant screams of the many people who hadn't quite made it, while Jenny spat another tooth on to the floor of the flatbed.

"So, Commander," said Jim quietly, several minutes into the ride, "what made you decide to call us back?"

"Sons of Korhal," said the Magistrate shortly. "Apparently they've got some new friends. Now they just need to convince these friends of theirs to give us a ride. They've got enough ships, apparently, but couldn't give me an ETA."

"Right," said Jim, feeling a gray, dead sensation climbing up his chest.

When the convoy drove into the city, Jim expected maybe a moment of silence for the civilians. Instead, it was barely restrained pandemonium as people clambered around the trucks and looked for their friends and loved ones.

Jim strode through the crowd, ignoring the obvious torrent of anger as people realized how few folk the Rangers had brought back. Allen's stupid face kept flashing in front of Jim's eyes, along with his son's, Findlay's, his parents', and far too many other people he couldn't save.

He walked into the foyer of the Magistrates headquarters without even realizing it. It was only when the Magistrate spoke up that he realized his boss had been waiting for him.

"Raynor," said the Magistrate, stopping Jim short. "I know you're not happy, but this is Zero Hour. We've got God-knows how long to hold this city, and you're the only person I can think of that people will listen to."

"Yeah," said Jim, his voice low. "Not sure why that is."

The Magistrate's eyes narrowed. He strode up to Jim, his bearing stiff, eyes livid.

"Alright, listen up you goddamn embarrassment. This is _not_ the time to break down and feel sorry for people who drew the short straw. We got a whole. Fucking. City. To look after. Whether we get 'em out alive or not is ENTIRELY DEPENDENT on you listening to me, RIGHT NOW."

That got Jim's attention. He stared down at the Magistrate's clean-shaven face, which was quivering with rage.

"The time for playing cowboys is over, Raynor," said the Magistrate. "This is the time for hard decisions and gruesome sacrifices. If you're not man enough to accept that, then these people have no reason to look up to you."

"I ain't a monster, Commander," said Jim. "You can't ask me to be one."

The Magistrate's expression softened. "You don't have to be. Why do you think I got this position? I'm not asking you to be unfeeling, only obedient. Just for a while. There's too much on the line."

Someone was yelling outside of the building over a megaphone. Alarms were going off all over the city.

"Establish a defensive perimeter and secure the major streets," said the Magistrate. "We still have a few borrowed siege tanks on the roofs, and the 'Feds left quite a few missile turrets behind. I gave you permission to access the command center's overhead display – you'll be able to see everything that is going on. Connect with the public broadcast channel and _make people listen,_ you're the only one who can_._ Use what you can, and save as many as you can. I have…a thing to attend to. I'll reassume command when it's done."

The Magistrate rushed past Jim, who, after a moment's thought, went back outside as well. He brought up the overlay of the city from his suit.

Bunkers had been placed on every major street corner and at every entrance to the city. Every building above four stories had been topped with a missile turret. Just outside the city, Jim could see the gathering swarm.

"Alright everyone," said Jim after patching into the emergency public announcement channel and hearing his own voice reverberating back all over Mar Sara City. "This is Jimmy. Ya'll know me. I've been assured we've got a ride out of Mar Sara, but it's a ways off. Until the help gets here, the city can't burn down. That means that if we want to live, there can't be lootin'. There can't be riotin'. But we can't give these bastards an inch of soil."

"I want everyone with a set of armor to suit up. I want everyone with a gun to arm themselves. And I want everyone with a brain to remain calm. This ain't the end. Not while I'm standin'. Find the nearest entrance to city and set up – if one corner ends up better defended than another, I'll let ya'll know. The 'Feds might have abandoned us, but let's be honest, that's their job. Now it's time to do ours. It's time to begin."

Jim had no idea what kind of reaction he would get. Hoping for the best, he turned off the display and made for the closest entrance to the city, the east entrance. Two bunkers sat on either side of the road, crewed by panicky marines. Their guns swiveled towards him as he approached, only lowering after he entered the bunker.

The three marines inside stared at him, visors down. _They look so young._ The oldest couldn't be more than twenty-one. They smiled at him when they realized who it was, making them look even younger.

"Jimmy!" said one fella with a big yellow smiley face painted on his armor. "Thank god you're takin' over from that Magistrate sissy. You think we gonna win this?"

"No doubt," said Jim, turning the overlay back on, along with the public channel. "If we got spider mines, I want them planted outside the city limits. Might buy us some time. We got plenty of AA, but I'm worried about the ground. We got mines?"

"This is Keyes," said a voice back over the channel. "Armory has plenty. I'll send some boys out. Never had a reason to use these before."

Jim continued to issue orders into the channel. He instructed the armory engineers on where to plant the mines, checked in with Kazansky to find that his Wraiths would not be repaired in time, and cycled marines around until all three roads into the city had the same number of marines.

"Commander, it's about as organized as Mar Sara ever gets," said Jim wearily. "Got an update?"

"I have been putting our alien friend somewhere safe," said the Magistrate. "I was told that it was crucial. Now, where would you put a Goliath?"

"We have a Goliath?" said Jim, perplexed. "Um, west entrance, the AA is kinda spread out. Where'd we get a Goliath?"

"Don't worry about it," said the Magistrate. "You're doing a good job. Keep it up."

_Guess he's not takin' command again just yet._

Jim closed the display and manned a bunker window. He couldn't help but notice that the marine next to him was shaking slightly, his gun barrel wandering all over his line of vision.

"What's your name?" prompted Jim gently.

The man turned his head toward Jim. He had straw blond hair and an unevenly shaved face. _Young. So young._

"Bradley, sir," said the kid. "Bradley Wilson."

"You scared, Bradley?" asked Jim.

Bradley averted his gaze. "Yes, sir. Never been in combat before."

"Then I'd say that, up till now, you've had good luck," said Jim. "You serve the Confederacy?"

"Had a leg injury in training," said Bradley, voice cracking slightly. "Had to quit. The suit's my dad's."

_Ah._

"Well," said Jim, "I'm gonna tell you now – I ain't gonna let anything bad happen to you. This bunker's sealed tight, and it ain't gonna run out of ammo any time soon. Rescue's coming, Bradley, I swear. And you'll be there to see it."

"Right," said Bradley, nodding inside of the suit. "That's what marshals are for."

Jim checked the overlay again. The zerg had now assembled in large numbers a mile outside the city limits on every side. _It's gonna be a charge unending._ This time, Jim was ready.

"They're almost upon us, people. 'Bats in front, marines behind. Shoot anything that shuffles, crawls, or skitters. Best of luck, boys and girls. I'll see you on the other side." Jim slid his visor down, and everyone else in the bunker followed suit. When Jim looked to his left, he could see the barricades the marines had set up, guns pointed over the wire and steel at the readying swarm. Their visors were sliding down too.

_Third charge today. It's like I've been fightin' aliens all my life._

On a distant hill outside the city, Jim looked down his sights and saw another of the mammoth zerg. Staring straight at the city, it reared and bellowed at the defenders. Every marine present responded by slipping the safeties off of their weapons, creating a cacophony of clicks.

The bellowing zerg was then shadowed by countless creatures in the air. Smaller zerg loped around its legs and screeched in the direction of Mar Sara while the snake-mantises slithered among them. The mammoth reared again and bellowed, bringing its scythes together to create a ringing crash, audible even across the mile. The landscape was now covered with zerg – every inch.

Jim checked the overlay again. The entire city was surrounded, though the zerg were only congregating near the three entrances. _Them fliers though, ain't no limit to where they're gonna travel._ Jim thought he heard a muffled sob from Bradley.

More mammoths trundled into sight, emerging from behind distant hills, from the soil itself. Jim sighed, feeling the air reflect back to him from inside the helmet.

"They bleed and die, same as us," said the marine to his left. "They just ain't as afeared of it."

"Yeah, well," said Jim, "let's see if we can't teach 'em."

The mammoth atop the hill reared once more. This time, when it bellowed, it seemed to echo with another voice. The entire swarm of creatures seemed to shudder and stiffen before, as one, charging.

_Here we go._

Instead of feeling like browning his pants, Jim watched in eager anticipation as the zerg triggered the spider mines. The little mines clawed themselves out of the soil and promptly skittered toward the zerg. With a pop and a bang, the mines detonated, tearing huge chunks out of the zerg line.

_You bastards aren't the only ones who can dig into the soil…_

More mines emerged from the earth, turning zerg into paste. They were now a quarter-mile away – siege tank range.

Jim felt a pang of sorrow as one mammoth was blown in half by an arclite round, having already been badly injured by several mines. _Allen would have had a blast doing this._ They only had two "borrowed" tanks for the entrance however, so the zerg continued more or less unimpeded. The fliers were also closing in.

Jim checked the layout one last time, wished he hadn't, and then closed and readied. The suit told him the targets were in range.

Jim's life became about controlling recoil and putting rounds downrange. He had no idea whether he was having any effect on the battle anymore – he had become part of something greater than any one marine. The zerg squealed, died, and advanced. Jim feverishly reloaded as the fliers flew over the defense and began engaging the turrets. The zerg reached the barricades and shredded themselves upon it. First they climbed atop it, and died. Then they climbed over the bodies of their fellows, and died. Then, they climbed over _their_ bodies…

Fire and curses erupted from the barricade as the firebats engaged the opposition, first with flame, then with brutal melee. The siege tank operators kept their rounds away from the city, aiming it only at the scuttling army that threatened to overwhelm them.

Inside the bunker, Jim's only thoughts involved aiming, shooting, and reloading. All talk sounded muted and garbled to him. He heard whistling sounds and saw spines flying past him and into the bunker, but he didn't know what it meant. Jim kept shooting. Little zerg surrounded the bunker and began clawing at the entrance before Bradley went over and cleared them out. Jim kept shooting. A mammoth approached, screaming in rage. Jim would have kept shooting, but Bradley turned him roughly by the shoulder.

"…gotta FALL BACK!"

Jim no longer knew who was in charge. He followed Bradley, who may as well have been his CO for all he knew, and dashed out of the bunker, thinking only that his face felt sticky.

When he looked up, he saw a winged creature fall from the sky and crash, shrieking, into a nearby shed. Past that, he only saw missile after missile being emptied into the roiling skies.

Jim followed Bradley some more, slowly regaining his senses. His ears were ringing, and his hands hurt from gripping the rifle so hard. The street had been transformed into a baffling melee, zerg and man fighting each other with blade, bullet, and boot.

Jim's bayonet slid out and he charged hollering into the fray, leaving Bradley behind.

His first move was to kick a small zerg full force. It hurt his foot some, but it was nothing compared to watching the creature sail, lifeless, through the air. Another flew at his face, but a quick slash of his bayonet cut it open and knocked it into the soil.

A firebat was cooking a snake-mantis, but it wasn't dying fast enough for Jim's liking. A quick burst remedied that. He saw a marine burst apart, a crab bastard crawling from his gory remains. Another shower of gauss rounds evened the scales. He heard a roar, and turned.

A mammoth had made it into the city, crushing the barricade under its mighty feet. Marines scattered and fled before it, even as it squashed its own troops under itself. Jim sighted his rifle, and fired until the gun went click. The mammoth, hide now riddled with holes, gave him a look of hatred. Jim screamed back at the creature.

"And now I see, Marshal, why these colonists fear you so."

It was a familiar voice. Jim was pretty sure he should be angry at it. When he turned, he only saw an enormous bipedal machine, armed to the teeth. When its gatling guns fired, Jim watched in awe as the mammoth buckled under the assault, before falling and crushing several more zerg.

"You…" growled Jim.

"Jim!" yelled Bradley, shaking him. "What the hell's wrong with you?!"

Jim suddenly felt very, very tired. His rifle fell from his grip. All around him, the battle raged. Men and zerg alike fell before each other's onslaught. A buzzing sound filled his ears.

"I'm okay," muttered Jim, shaking off Bradley. "Sorry. Sorry."

The Magistrate's voice issued again from the Goliath. "I took the liberty of checking how you were doing, marshal. It seems you picked the hardest street to defend. EVERYONE! FALL BACK!"

Jim grabbed another rifle from the stiff form of a nearby marine. The bullet counter read **223**. _Good enough._

"Sorry for scaring you," said Jim as he retreated alongside Bradley. On the other end of the street, zerg emerged from behind the bloody form of the mammoth. The Magistrate fired a few parting shots at the newly assembled zerg before retreating, his heavy gait crushing the bodies of zerg and marine alike as he fled.

Jim lost track of things again. He vaguely remembered great hordes of people, marines and civilians alike, stampeding towards the heart of the city. Parts of a siege tank rained down from above while the Magistrate held an entire street by himself to better protect the stream of his people running down it. All the while, flying zerg fell from the skies.

When he finally stopped running, he was face to face with the Magistrate, his face laden with sweat from being in the Goliath so long. He had replaced his normally immaculate clothing with some kind of combat armor and harness, and he had a heavy cut on his brow that refused to stop bleeding, and there was no sign of the vehicle he had been piloting. Jim shook himself, trying to return sensation as a voice suddenly filled his ears.

"Attention citizens of Mar Sara. This is Arcturus Mengsk of the Sons of Korhal speaking. We are three minutes out and have the means to evacuate everyone. Remain as calm as you can, and obey our directions. Do not shoot our vessels – not all of them will register as familiar. Do not attack any Sons of Korhal or our associates – we are here to help. Repeat: ETA three minutes."

"Are we saved?" asked Jim.

The Magistrate looked back at the streets behind them. Buildings were aflame, and bodies littered every inch of pavement. The Magistrate sighed.

"We'll live."

Beaky had appeared from nowhere, wrapping the Magistrate's head in a bandage. Distant explosions rocked the city, great blasts of blue falling from the sky. Ships like the one from Belcher's Pass descended from the skies directly above them. One landed before Jim, causing dust and ash to shoot everywhere from the updraft. Jim brought a hand before his face and stumbled forward.

The door slid open. A ghost with long red hair beckoned people in. New Beakys stood on either side of her, their gazes sharp, predatory, and yet somehow full of concern. _I always wondered what it would be like to go insane. Feels better than I thought._

More blasts fell from the sky. Jim realized it was an orbital barrage. He also realized that he and his people might actually make it. The lady had stepped forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him aboard - a feat given he was still in a suit. More followed after him. Everywhere, shuttles were filling the city.

"This is Kerrigan, found Magistrate Harper and Saren. Bringing them home – any sign of the protoss?" The red-haired ghost sounding like she was in charge. Jim was happy for her.

"Yes, another fleet has appeared on the other side of the planet, but do not worry," replied the voice of Mengsk. "I spoke to the protoss commander, and made clear that I believed his race to be a race of honor. He gave us two hours to evacuate, and then he will destroy the planet. He says that his only true grievance lies with the zerg – but I doubt he will stand for us to be in his way for much longer."

Kerrigan whistled. "Can't believe how you're pulling this off, Arcturus. I hope you realize we owe the Hierarchy an enormous debt."

"I am well aware of this," said Mengsk. "Don't worry - I think we can find a means of payment that will suit both the Sons and the turians just fine. I'll see you aboard the Hyperion."

The ghost looked into Jim's face, her smile dying as she did.

"Hey. Hey Jim," she said. Jim did not know how she knew his name. "Jim – it's alright. You're safe. You and the Magistrate saved all of these people, okay? You can sleep now. It's alright. You're going to be okay."

Jim believed her.


	12. Council and Korhal

**Adrien**

Adrien Victus stood alongside several other senior officers as they stared outside _Momentum's_ viewport. Barely visible as a gleam of gold in the distance, there sat the protoss fleet.

Despite the claims of both the protoss commander and Mengsk, Adrien still harbored some doubts about this fleet's supposed capability of destroying a planet. Now the two hours were up. Even from high above orbit, great patches of purple and black were visible on the planet's surface, slowly creeping over the abandoned terran settlements. Mar Sara was a ghost planet.

Adrien turned to Saren, the only other survivor of the protoss attack on their flotilla.

"Do you think they can do it, Lieutenant?" asked Adrien. "There cannot be more than eight ships present. How could they burn an entire world?"

Saren looked back at Adrien, his expression one of disgust. "They seem the kind of species that would have that kind of power; doubtless so that they may pass judgment on "lesser" races."

Adrien turned his gaze back to the viewport, wondering. _Teleportation and shielding, certainly. Some kind of telepathy – unlikely and remarkable, but verifiable. Planet destroying capabilities, however…_

The idea excited Adrien on one level, and horrified him on all others. Regardless, there was little he could do to stop it. Several of the senior officers in the Third Fleet had tried to pressure him and General Janus into authorizing an attack, but neither of them could justify it.

_They got through the relay uncontested. They gave Mengsk two hours to evacuate. Moreover, from what I've heard of the 48__th__ Flotilla's ill-advised attack on that other planet, it did not end well._ _It appears that _Relentless's _kill was a fluke._ Adrien's eyes flicked back down to the spreading purple of the planet. _And the protoss do not half so much scare me as these zerg… they remind me far too much of the rachni._

"It begins," said Saren shortly. Adrien did not see what he meant at first, but three seconds later great beams of light erupted in the distance.

A great shockwave reverberated through space, making everybody at the viewport shift as the ship shook. Adrien watched, appalled and amazed, as the atmosphere caught fire. A great inferno of blue and orange ripped through the tortured skies of Mar Sara, leaving only ashes and dust behind. The purple gave way to this new onslaught, and Adrien could imagine the great shrieks rending the air as the zerg were confronted with a foe they could not hope to best.

It was over in a matter of moments. Mar Sara had seconds before been all manner of orange and purple shades. Now it was black and gray, and Adrien could not imagine any living thing ever setting a foot on its surface again. When he glanced at Saren, the lieutenant's gaze was fixed on what was left of the planet. Adrien did not know what he was thinking. _It's over, Arterius. You're safe now._

Adrien's ribs still felt warm. The painkillers they had supplied had been potent – he could feel nary a twinge of pain as he sucked in a deep breath. _I've seen all I need to see. It is time the Council understood what we're dealing with._

"Lieutenant Arterius, come with me," barked Adrien. "The Council needs to know what we have seen."

The two walked together, side by side, each slowed by their own injuries. _Momentum's_ corridors were packed with turian sailors and marines alike, many of whom directed lines of inquiry toward their general as he passed by. _How did you survive? Can we trust these terrans? Why didn't the protoss attack us?_

General Janus was waiting outside the vidcomm room. Despite being of slightly higher rank than Adrien, he saluted as they approached.

"General Victus," said Janus, inclining his head. "We've tested the QEC, and have established contact with the Citadel. I was worried about possible interference from those protoss, but we seem to be in the clear. The terran woman called – apparently Mengsk wants an audience as well. Should we let him aboard?"

_Ambitious one, isn't he? _The terran vessels hugged the edges of the Third Fleet's perimeter, shuttles flying to and from the ships. Mengsk's only message to Third Fleet once the evacuation was completed simply asked that they maintain an appropriate distance from the protoss, and did not leave their people until they had a place to go. Adrien, for his part, was of no mind to let the terrans go anywhere until he had had a talk with either the Council or the Hierarch.

"Let him aboard," said Adrien. "I'll bring him in once we're done. It could take a few hours."

Janus saluted again and ushered the two of them in. The vidcomm room was currently dominated by the three flickering forms that stood above Adrien and Saren.

"General Victus," said the turian councilor, Sparatus, as they entered. "I was under the impression we sent you out on a milk run. Clearly, I was mistaken."

"Councilors," said Victus, inclining his head. "Might the two of us take a seat? We've had a long week, and we bear several wounds."

"Of course," said Tevos the asari councilor, gesturing. Adrien looked to Saren, who shook his head stiffly as Adrien rolled a chair to him. _Hmm. If he wishes to remain standing, so be it. These bones have seen too many battles to justify displays of pride._ Adrien sat, looking up at the Council.

"So," said the salarian councilor, Valern. "I think a sitrep would be best. Tell us everything – from the opening of the relay, to where we stand now."

Adrien nodded to Saren, who went first. _Maybe he'll finally decide he can sit down once he's done._

"I was aboard _Relentless,_" said Saren stiffly. "I was part of the marine detachment. We only had so many pods still functional when the order was given to abandon ship. I elected to remain with my squad – we assumed that the technicians and sailors would be of more use in the long run."

Saren continued, telling of the impact with the protoss vessel. Adrien winced when Saren described some of what the people still below-decks had suffered as the ship began to fail. Apparently, decapitation had been one of the luckier fates. Saren had been the only one to survive impact, and had heard Adrien's broadcast. After the jump, he had stumbled, confused yet determined, towards the shuttle bay.

"There were two shuttles left," said Saren. "The shuttle bay was furthest from the impact, but there were still fires everywhere. I loaded a shuttle with all of the emergency gear I could and waited five minutes. No one came, so I left."

The Council remained quiet as Saren recalled his confusion when he saw unfamiliar stars winking back at him. He set course for the planet that was not currently rocked by explosions. At some point during his descent to Mar Sara he was hit by a stray projectile, but he had no idea where it had come from, or what it was.

"Nothing came up on scans," said Saren. "It was not electronic, whatever it was. It still managed to force an emergency landing."

Saren's landing on the planet had not been conventional. He managed to hide himself in a small pass, but the smoke being belched out of his craft had still managed to draw alien attention. When Saren heard knocking, he knew that the planet's inhabitants had found him.

What followed was a bizarre explanation of terran escapades. Saren recounted confusion as he was taken to an apparently rural domicile and treated as some kind of honored (yet secret) guest. Regardless, when he had heard alarms and shouting outside and found the door unlocked, he had decided to leave.

"The terrans had given me access to everything I had stored aboard the shuttle," said Saren. "Well... with the exception of some of the electronics and all of my weapons. I still had enough to make a transmitter for a rudimentary signal."

After spending a few hours in the desert, Saren had found a likely looking valley and activated the device. Adrien knew this was where their stories intersected again, because it was around this time that Mengsk had brought him to the Third Fleet, who were reporting a turian signal from the planet's surface.

Saren's final accounts were that of confusion and being dragged about by the Magistrate, who brought him face to face to a vidscreen with Adrien, Mengsk, and Janus on the other end. They had asked him if he was safe, what had happened, and whether they should respond to the call and evacuate Mar Sara. In the end, it was Saren who had decided that the terrans should be evacuated.

"They had treated me fairly, despite not understanding me," said Saren, his voice still as stiff as his posture. "It was also clear that their military was no longer present. I felt that it would have been a blot on the character of the Hierarchy if we had ignored their plea, particularly when we had the means to save them."

Adrien then gave his account, carefully watching Sparatus's reactions. When he reached the part about trading histories with Mengsk, the turian ambassador shook his head in disbelief.

"You gave away too much, General," said Sparatus, his disapproval clear. "You had only just met these terrans. They had you strapped to an operating table, and you felt they were trustworthy? And what is this nonsense about prison ships? Do you mean to tell me that their homeworld sent thousands of people out here to die?"

"Their other actions speak loudly, ambassador," said Saren before Adrien could respond. "These terrans are clearly beings of reason, and have proven themselves more hospitable than the rachni and the protoss. I would not fault their character, no matter their history." _Well, they haven't killed any turians yet, as far as we can tell. So they are certainly ahead on that front._

"As for their separation, it was a long time ago, and none of them hold fond memories of their homeworld," said Adrien. "Mengsk seemed surprised that I asked any questions about it at all."

"Though I find that hard to believe," said Tevos, "their origin is hardly the most pressing concern at the moment. How did you reconnect with Third Fleet, General?"

"I told them of where I had entered the sector," said Adrien. "They said they wanted to see an active mass relay – they called it a "spinner." As we made our approach, it became clear that a turian fleet was present nearby. I was… eager, to see familiar faces again."

"And so it lead to cooperation," said Tevos, actually sounding rather impressed. "Your two fleets evacuated a city within the space of two hours. An astounding display for two peoples who had known each other for a day at most."

"Still," said Valern, his voice taking an edge. "Let us be honest: we do not really know these people. We do not know their culture, their attitudes. This _Mengsk_ is the head of a fringe organization, and it is clear that the Confederacy will not take kindly to us helping him. And if these people are indeed descendants of madmen and criminals, who knows what kind of political antics we may be in for? We do not need another Hegemony to deal with! We do not even have translators set up, and already we are in a delicate situation."

"We've sent for Mengsk," said Adrien. "He has his own translator. Some of the – what did they call it…? Psionic? Yes. Some of the displays of psionics here have made the asari rather obsolete in terms of understanding language between species. No offense, madame councilor."

Tevos waved it off. "Bring him in, perhaps it will cast light on the nature of his people."

_If we all judged other races based on their politicians, madame ambassador, the galaxy would be a much less friendly place._

Three minutes of terse silence later, Mengsk strode in, flanked by Kerrigan and the Magistrate. Mengsk had disposed of his cape in favor of simpler attire, something Adrien approved of, but his two companions still bore the combat armor they had worn planetside. _I am not certain that sends the right message. _

"Ambassadors," said Mengsk, promptly being translated by Kerrigan, who spoke in turian tongues as if she had born to it. "It is a pleasure to meet with you at last. Victus spoke at great length of your importance, of your many responsibilities. I am Arcturus Mengsk, leader of the Sons of Korhal, and I am honored to be among the first terrans to establish ties. With me stand Jack Harper, former colonial magistrate of the now lost Mar Sara, and Sarah Kerrigan, who is the one translating this message."

Aside from the other two terrans, Adrien was the only one who could hear and understand Mengsk as he presented himself, rather than what Kerrigan was interpreting him as. _He speaks well. It is a pity some of that eloquence will be lost, coming out of Kerrigan's mouth._

"Welcome, Mengsk, Harper, and Kerrigan," said Tevos, her words being immediately turned to English by the red-haired ghost. "I am ambassador Tevos, of the Asari Republics. With me are Councilor Sparatus, of the Turian Hierarchy, and Councilor Valern, of the Salarian Union."

"A pleasure," said Valern, while Sparatus simply nodded stiffly. _Ah, even the salarian knows our language without the aid of a translator! It is most likely a prerequisite to the job._ Adrien's esteem of Valern rose ever so slightly.

"We understand that your people are a long way from their homeworld," said Tevos. "We wish to extend our own sincere regrets over your troubled history."

Adrien was still becoming used to terran facial expressions, but he was fairly certain that the Magistrate was looking puzzled at this. He took a closer look at the man. _Older – the hair is graying. He bears himself as a soldier, and is paying close attention to the proceedings. They said he fought on the ground alongside his people. I will have to ask Saren more about him later._

"We are a long way from the place of our species' birth," replied Mengsk. "Know that our history is still one of hope. We have survived in this sector, and escaped the yolk of our oppressors. These other aliens, however, these… protoss and zerg – they give me pause. They make me question the safety of our future."

Adrien saw Sparatus nod at that. _He's still reserving judgment, even with myself and Saren's testimony. But he acknowledges the threat those two races represent. How long before they go on a tear through Council space? At least the protoss' guns have quieted, for the moment._

"We would like to meet with one of these protoss, if possible," said Valern, his eyes lighting up. "Assuming we can find some common ground, we would have much to learn from each other."

_Yes, we could learn the ways of destroying planets with a handful of ships, and they could learn the joys of trying to earn a Council seat. _Adrien sighed. _I think it would be best if we just stayed out of their way… except they planted a damn base right next to the relay._

"The protoss and zerg are a threat to us all," said Tevos with what Adrien thought was debatable sincerity. "We have dealt with the likes of the zerg before, with the Rachni Incursion. The protoss, however, we have seen nothing like. Do you know anything of them?"

"They hate the zerg," said Mengsk. "They also slaughtered many people on Chau Sara as they established an outpost there. They are no friends of ours, ambassadors."

"Their fleet just destroyed a planet," said Saren. "I think it is safe to say that they are friends of nothing else that lives. They launched an unprovoked attack on our fleet, and then camped outside of the mass relay, doubtless to wait for more victims!"

"Saren Arterius has the truth of it," said Mengsk. "These protoss are a cunning and violent people. I believe they stayed their hand on Mar Sara simply so they would not be embroiled in a bitter battle against our twin fleets. Even then, we were given scant time to work with."

"Hmph," said Sparatus. "I will reserve judgment until I have spoken with one of these protoss myself. Does their fleet remain close by?"

After briefly radioing Janus, Adrien determined that it was so.

"Then I would speak with them," said Sparatus, his tone brooking no argument. "Saren said they had no difficulties across languages. I would witness these "powers" for myself."

"Attempt to establish communication with the protoss," said Adrien into the comm. "The Council wants to speak with them."

"Those monsters just destroyed an entire planet, and the Council wants to get their attention?" asked Janus. "They better know what they're doing. Broadcasting…"

Mengsk had folded his arms, and the Magistrate was biting his lip. When Adrien looked to Saren, the lieutenant's expression was livid.

Suddenly and without warning, every spare screen in the room lit up. A mouthless face with burning eyes stared into the room, and a sense of detached and alien disapproval crept through Adrien's being. _This is a terrible idea._

"You have my attention, councilors," said a deep voice, issuing from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Be warned that it is fleeting. I have suffered enough alien follies for my lifetime."

"I am Councilor Tevos of the Asari Republics," said Tevos as brightly as she could manage, "and with me stand-"

"I know who you are," said the voice as the mouthless face seemed to stare into the souls of everyone present. "Tevos, excited at these new gene strains that might strengthen her people. Valern, mouth watering at the technologies that wait just beyond his grasp. And Sparatus – worrying for his daughter, a sergeant serving with the Third Fleet."

Adrien looked back to Sparatus, whose posture had become, if possible, even stiffer. _You got your wish, councilor. These are their powers – deny them at your peril._

"How can this be possible?" asked Tevos, her voice trembling. "We are so far away – how could you even-"

"I am Tassadar," boomed the voice. "Executor of the protoss, scion of Aiur. Thought can carry across great distances, and I can feel your presence as if you stood next to me. Fear us, the Firstborn, for we are mighty."

"Do not think to intimidate us, Tassadar," said Valern, his uncertainty quickly giving to anger. "You have opened fire on turian ships. You cannot hope to-"

"Do not think to intimidate _me_, Valern," said the voice, cutting a councilor off yet again. "I can read your every thought, furtive though they be. You salarians hum with ideas, your wheels spin quickly – I suppose they must, with your lifespans being so pitiful. Know that you cannot intimidate the Firstborn, councilors, and know that you have nothing to offer us."

"Then why did you allow us to evacuate Mar Sara?" asked Adrien, his voice clear despite his insides quivering with fear.

The lights in Tassadar's eyes flickered. The entire ship seemed to have gone silent.

"We are an elder race," said Tassadar. "It is our responsibility to preserve lesser life. The zerg threaten all – they are the only race among these stars I would deem worthy of fear. You may play your little games, councilors, but do not think to include the protoss. I see no reason for further conflict, should you not provoke us. I simply wish to continue scouring these stars of the wretched zerg."

"You have camped outside the relay," said Sparatus. "Are you offering safe passage into the sector?"

"Yes," said Tassadar. "But do not seek to contact us again. Remain far from Chau Sara. Purge the zerg should you encounter them. I wish you luck in your… negotiations." The screens turned to static, and Janus reported that the protoss fleets had vanished. Adrien could hear a cacophony of voices from every direction – Tassadar had apparently sent his message to the entire fleet. _Hmm, that could be disillusioning, knowing the Council was spoken to in such a manner._

"Well, that was enlightening," said Mengsk, waiting for a moment as Kerrigan regained her bearings and began translating once more. "It would seem the only friendly faces to be found in this sector…are ours."

"How could he do that?" asked Tevos, clearly in deep shock. "I mean…how could anyone deal with a species like that? Every deception, bared before them…"

"They are clearly a threat," said Mengsk. "A threat that none of us can handle alone. With the zerg also prowling these stars, I would call this a time for unity between us "lesser" species."

"A threat to you, perhaps," said Sparatus, his tone icy. "There are many light-years between the Citadel and your little corner of space. All we would have to do is fortify the other end of the relay-"

"Ambassador, if you truly believe we can ignore the threat this sector poses, then not only do you disgrace your rank, you disgrace your species," said Saren fiercely." I have seen firsthand what we are dealing with. The zerg, the protoss, they would laugh at such a blockade. Can any of our peoples claim to be able to destroy a planet in seconds?" The only sound was Kerrigan translating for Mengsk. No one had a response. "No. Not one of us can."

"There are other relays as well," said Mengsk. "They are scattered throughout the sector. They are uniformly inactive, but are now unlikely to remain that way. You must face this problem head on, good ambassadors."

"We must contact this Confederacy," said Valern. "Perhaps we can establish diplomatic ties. Saren claims that terran technology is impressive, particularly for lack of Element Zero. Perhaps, with their aid-"

"Pardon me for interrupting, but I would not recommend that," said the Magistrate, catching Kerrigan slightly off-guard. "Even if they were amenable to diplomacy, which I assure you they would not be, they would squeeze you for everything you are worth. They _abandoned_ their own people to die – purely for fear of the cost. Alien interests and lives would be less than nothing to them. There are no heroes to be found in that government. The corruption runs deep."

"I agree," said Saren, nodding vigorously. "Their ships were nowhere to be seen when the zerg began their final assault. The people of Mar Sara and the Sons of Korhal – they are the ones worth trusting."

"I see," said Sparatus after a brief pause. "I suppose that it is fortunate that the leaders of both of those organizations stand before us. Tell me then, Arcturus Mengsk, what you would do if the Council offered your people, scant few as they are, membership in the Council?"

"I would regret to inform you that we would be a burden," said Mengsk. "We stand at twenty-thousand, most of them civilians rescued from Mar Sara. We have supplies enough for only a few weeks, and no planet to call our own. We could not offer you any military aid, and what little technology we possess would take many lifetimes to reproduce without further aid. As it stands, we would make poor allies."

_Well, that was honest._

"Then what use are you?" asked Sparatus bluntly, provoking a glare from Tevos. Yet when Kerrigan translated, Mengsk smiled broadly.

"Right now, we are of no use," said Mengsk. "However, given support and time, I believe that our friendship could prove very worthwhile."

"We're listening," said Tevos, trying to restore her bearing. Tassadar had clearly shaken her from the pedestal she was used to standing on. _I don't disapprove._

"The Confederacy is corrupt," said Mengsk. "Its people are dissatisfied and downtrodden. Already, we hear whispers of rebellion on the fringe worlds – people just need the right push, the right resources. The Sons of Korhal could provide that."

"I request the support of your Council. I wish to start an insurrection that will shake this sector, and bring the Confederates to their knees. In their place, a new order will rise, one dedicated to the prosperity of the terran people through peaceful diplomacy with the Council. We would join you, ambassadors, on your mighty Citadel. Through me, you shall have your alliance against the protoss and zerg. Through me, you will have access to the technology we possess. Through me… you shall have order."

_Overblown and dramatic, yet it possesses a certain flair._ Adrien noticed Kerrigan pausing and changing up the word choice in a few key areas. _A smart woman._ He noticed her smiling slightly when he thought this, and defaulted once again to naked asari.

When Kerrigan finished, the Councilors looked to one another. Valern nodded. Tevos nodded. They looked to Sparatus, whose mandibles set.

_The asari and salarians smell opportunity – this sector is too good to pass up. Teleportation, psionics, and a fledgling government beholden to their every whim?_

"Yes..." hissed Sparatus.

"We would need a planet to house our civilians," said Mengsk. "The language barrier must also be overcome swiftly, I understand that you have the technology. I pledge the Sons of Korhal to your service, though I cannot speak for Mar Sara-"

"You can," said the Magistrate, causing Kerrigan to frown as she had to translate two terrans at once. "The sons and daughters of Mar Sara owe everything to the Sons. Where you go, so will we."

"Then you have Mar Sara as well," said Mengsk. "You have my word that, the day the Confederacy falls, a new order, dedicated to the Council, will rise from its ashes."

"We will find your people a world," said Tevos, casting a sideways glance to make sure her associates agreed. "I can think of one uninhabited garden world you can make use of. It would require travel through the relay, however."

"I will go to any lengths to save these people," said Mengsk. "I merely request time to recruit the best fighters from the Mar Sara colonists. I will entrust the rest of these people to your care – I must remain in the system with what forces I do have. There is a… time sensitive opportunity we must take advantage of. I beg your leave."

"You have it," said Tevos. "Adrien, Saren, remain."

The terrans left, the Magistrate casting one lingering glance behind him as the door slid shut. Adrien sighed deeply, feeling a slight tingle in his rib cage. _Going to need painkillers again soon._

"I will have the Asari First Fleet sent in," said Tevos, wiping her brow. "We will try to construct translators as soon as possible."

"Make sure they give Chau Sara a wide berth," said Adrien. "We don't need the protoss wiping out any more of our people."

"That would be best," said Valern before addressing Adrien. "Tell me, General Victus. How much trust can we extend to these terrans?"

Adrien paused, wracking his brains, looking through every moment spent with them so far.

_I like them more than the protoss and zerg, but I've met vorcha I've liked more than them. The terrans Saren met seemed forthright and friendly, but Mengsk… _Victus thought back to the operating table. _…we would be fools to trust Mengsk just yet._

"I trust Kerrigan," said Victus. "She linked with my mind, but treated me gently, and Saren attests to the Magistrate's character." Saren nodded at this. Adrien sighed.

"For the time being, we will need Mengsk," said Adrien, hoping he was not making a mistake. "Still, I would not trust him. His offer seems too good to be true."

Tevos smiled. "Pretty much where we already stood. I hope you will not object to remaining in the sector, General? You already have a rapport with our less-than-trustworthy rebel friend."

Adrien, who could feel his ribs beginning to ache, could think only of his son. _I want to go back to Palaven, see only the faces of my people, and hear only their voices. _But he was a general in the Hierarchy. His place was where he was needed.

"Of course," Adrien said, pleased to hear this voice did not sound remotely unsure or hesitant. He looked to Saren, who was grinning savagely. "Lieutenant Arterius, I perfectly unders-"

"I will remain," he said immediately. "I owe a debt of gratitude to the terrans… and a debt of blood to the protoss."

"Then I am promoting you over Janus, general," said Sparatus. "Your diplomatic ties will prove more useful in the long run. You are in command of Third Fleet. I will notify the Hierarch."

_A great honor. It will probably kill me._

"You are dismissed," said Valern. "We have many preparations to make. We thank you for your service, and wish you luck."

The three images winked out. Adrien looked to Saren, nodded.

"Hell of a milk run, eh, Lieutenant?"

Saren's expression scarcely moved, yet as Adrien limped away, he heard him burst out laughing.


	13. Far From Home

**Daggoth**

The jump was… disorienting. Daggoth's first jump had been long ago, when the Overmind Itself was still new. Daggoth's initial trip into Warpspace had left him feeling as though his insides were boiling, climbing outside of his fledgling form. The jumps afterward had seemed gentler, though nothing had truly changed about them; Daggoth had just grown more mature. But this time... this time Daggoth was a grub once more.

Daggoth could feel his own brood, the Tiamat Brood, suffering as the jump wore on.

_Scourges, searing into nothing while seated atop the overlords, their tiny forms unable to bear the strain. Zerglings, crying out and dying huddled together inside the overlord's carapace. A lone queen being torn away from the main stream, destroyed suddenly by forces it never understood. The wings of mutalisks burning away, their bodies following shortly afterward…_

With each death came a twinge of pain. Daggoth could feel his own form growing warmer as the Overlord's carapace began to blacken and smoke…

_No. I will survive. The brood will endure!_

Daggoth could feel the Overmind's distant approval at these thoughts. _It would never send us to die. I am Its chosen! Glory to the Swarm!_

**"Glory to the Swarm…"** The voice faded away as the last word was intoned, and Daggoth lurched as the jump ended. Before them lay the volcanic world of Therum. There was an entire galaxy between Daggoth and the Overmind. Its voice had almost completely rescinded; only a distinct murmur remained of the voice that had crooned to Daggoth in his chrysalis, that had taught him how to command his brood. _Now it is up to me alone to carry out the Overmind's will._

Daggoth surveyed his brood, his own form twisting slightly within the overlord as he did so. _We are not unscathed._ The overlords had proven resilient enough to survive, but many of their passengers had not. Furthermore, the many mutalisks and guardians that provided the bulk of the Tiamat Brood's strength had been torn apart by the journey. Far too few remained.

_Fortunate then, that we go unobserved. Now, the first world will fall._

Daggoth urged the surviving swarm forward. _A shadow falls over Therum._

The overlords landed in their thousands, depositing countless zerg on to the face of Therum. Daggoth immediately instructed them to seek out safe soil and begin digging. Daggoth extended his will forward and detected no signs of life. The zerg spread uncontested, the few surviving drones gliding to points of interest and turning into hatcheries.

_The Creep will cover this planet, and from it, we shall spread far._

Daggoth's overlord floated forward at his command. There was no threat to be found on Therum. He would nest here, until his brood was once again joined with the Overmind's.

_A line of zerg, unbroken, stretching to the other end of the galaxy. Glorious._

Daggoth slid out of the overlord, leaving a trail of viscous fluid as he went. The ashen soil of Therum was warm. It was soothing to have solid ground under him once more.

Daggoth felt a surge of interest from his zerglings. He looked through the eyes of one pair and found a curious set of underground tunnels and structures. It was apparent that they had not been in use for some time – the surfaces were covered in ash and dust, and there was not a sound to be heard. Daggoth commanded his zerglings forward, searching for any sign of habitation or ownership, hoping against hope that this was some ancient xel'naga temple.

That hope died as the zerglings emerged in some kind of antechamber. _The architecture is all wrong. There is nothing for us here._ At the center of the room stood a strange obelisk, glowing faintly green. The zerglings immediately wanted to approach it, and Daggoth let them. They also wanted to pounce on it repeatedly and stab it with their talons, but Daggoth overrode that particular impulse. The two crept forward, hissing faintly as the obelisk hummed.

Daggoth examined the chamber. _Secured below the earth. Ash fell from these skies once, buried this chamber underneath. _Daggoth directed a zergling to look up. A great dome of reinforced steel sat above, still holding against the weight of the earth. _Not for much longer. Whatever race that constructed these tunnels would have been worthy of assimilation. Their monuments have stood the test of time._

The obelisk thrummed, the sickly green light casting the rest of the chamber in a soft glow. _This place was important, once._ The zerglings stood before it. One reached out with a talon – and the obelisk pulled it forward.

Images flashed through the zergling's mind. It squealed and shuddered as the images came faster and faster, a sense of ancient urgency cascading from the object. The zergling was quickly dying from the stimulus, but Daggoth… Daggoth drank it in.

_Meant for a far more alien mind – a weaker alien mind. _Daggoth felt a slight pinch as he adjusted himself mentally, trying to get a clearer picture. The images, orange and violent, crystallized in his mind's eye.

A thousand warriors in gleaming armor stood arrayed before a structure, proclaiming an undying loyalty to their empire. Each stood, ready to die for what Daggoth could sense was for a cause none of them believed would prevail. Red streaks of lightning crackled from the heavens, and a great ship descended.

The ship extended tendrils and uttered a deep, resounding, electronic cry. Daggoth felt ripples of both fear and resolve emanate from the defenders – the protheans. _A magnificent people. They would have made us so much stronger._

They marched forward, even as more ships clouded their skies. The air filled with smaller ships, many glowing a malevolent red. Protheans fell, and Daggoth could sense a great, underlying scream tearing from the earth. _The sound of an empire dying at the hands of great machine intelligences._

Daggoth's vision shifted to a massive space station. Memories that were not his recalled it as a place of commerce and might, that the greatest of the Empire's leaders lived here.

It was also a trap.

The same ships that had once rent the skies of some far-flung prothean world also appeared here. Shock and panic gripped the great station – the Citadel – as the protheans discovered that they had lost control of everything.

_Relays locked. Their people scattered. An iron fist closing around the galaxy._

What followed was image after image of harvests. The ships – the Reapers – landed on worlds, took the people. Some died. Others were… changed. Most were taken to great camps and never seen again. All the while the Reapers never stopped, never slowed, never explained. It was a great extinction clearly carried out with great forethought, but there was never any apparent motive. It was that part that scared Daggoth.

_The Zerg Swarm is great and terrible, much akin to these Reapers. But our goal has always been perfection through assimilation and refinement of genetics – merging with the protoss would accomplish this. What do these Reapers want?_

Daggoth did not get to find out. The obelisk let out a screech and abruptly shattered, flinging the now braindead zergling across the chamber. Its broodmate let out another low growl as Daggoth released his hold. He quickly expanded his thoughts across the planet, checking his brood.

The first hatcheries had begun to spring forth, and Creep was now carpeting parts of the planet. The soil was riddled with intersecting and overlapping tunnels, and the dark skies were home to many overlords. Daggoth twitched inside his nest, his thoughts consumed by the visions of steel and fire.

_This was unforeseen. The Overmind never spoke of this! The xel'naga never even spoke of this, at least that I know of. What beings are these, that slaughter civilizations with such ease and callousness? How can I scour these stars when I know that they already serve a greater purpose? How could I escape this cycle?_

Daggoth half expected the Overmind to cut in, to intone within his very being that there was nothing to fear, that the Swarm was the most fearsome thing to bestride these stars. But there was nothing. The Overmind was far too distant. There was not even a faint stir. Daggoth took a moment to evaluate his purpose.

_Serve the Overmind. Take these stars for the Swarm by consuming the Council systems. They do not know we are here. They are not ready. Their end will be swift. Move fast, strike hard._

Now, Daggoth was reconsidering. The Reapers were unplanned for, unwanted, and supposedly unstoppable. The Overmind Itself might be able to repel the planned harvest, but Daggoth was far from Its welcoming embrace. In fact, Daggoth was currently seated in a planet he knew for certain the Reapers had visited previously. His form quivered slightly.

_The Council races are as unprepared for this onslaught as I am. There was no mention of these "Reapers." There might be time. There _must_ be time._

Daggoth scoured the memories that he had extracted from the turian and found them lacking. Irritated, he sent overlords into orbit and had them scan the system. _No mass relay nearby. It may be some time before anyone visits._

As luck would have it, a vessel appeared in Therum's orbit eighteen hours later. Daggoth had been supervising the tunnel system and growing the main hive clusters when a queen alerted him of an unknown vessel. _Most likely here to discharge into the atmosphere._ Daggoth sent a flock of scourge at the ship, which had halted in high orbit. _They likely do not know what to make of all of the improvements I have made on Therum. Fear not, fools, for you shall soon know the Swarm._

Daggoth watched through the scourge's echolocation as they honed in on the ship. Daggoth's vision went red and then black as contact was made. When he looked through the queen again, it was clear that the vessel was crippled. Daggoth ordered overlords bearing hunter killers into orbit.

The vessel was belching smoke into the atmosphere. Great plumes of it issued from the gaping chunks that had been blown out of it by multiple scourge impacts. Despite this, some thin membrane of energy had formed over the missing pieces, and Daggoth could sense anger from within.

_Good. Worthy foes. We shall learn much from them._

The overlords extended tendrils into one of the holes, and hunter killers slithered out. Sixteen of them had been dumped into the ship, and Daggoth gave them the command.

_Exterminate all resistance. Prepare this vessel for infestation._

Daggoth sensed glee from his modified hydralisks, their red eyes gleaming with the promise of slaughter. The defenders, great hulking brutes in reinforced armor, showed no fear.

Their weapons tore holes in the carapaces of Daggoth's beautiful creatures. These foul beings bellowed and charged, and the hunter killers were given pause.

One brute collided with a hunter killer, edging it backwards as its supposed prey battered its underbelly with head and gun. The hunter killer screamed, and the talons descended. The hulking creature grunted as its shoulder and head crest were torn, blood spattering the ship's metal floor. With a deft swipe, the hunter killer cut through its opponent's face, exposing its brain. The hunter killer's other talon then drove deep, holding for a moment before removing the crimson talon from the twitching corpse of its prey. It hissed at the other survivors, their guns barely noticeable. The flaps opened, and the brutes fell.

Elsewhere on the ship, it was much the same. The brutes were strong, aggressive, and fearless, but they were no match for Daggoth's Hunter Killers. Perplexingly, smaller creatures ran amok as well, their voices shrill and rasping. Unlike their bigger cousins, they felt fear, even if it was not to a great extent.

Daggoth almost overlooked them until he saw on recovering from a graze left from a hunter killer's spine. _Regenerative capabilities. _His esteem of them increased further when several took flamethrowers to the hunter killers, even momentarily panicking one. Thus, when he saw one of these aggressive brutes striking the fearsome little rogues, Daggoth felt a surge of anger at the bigger prey. His anger, coupled with the brutes' complete lack of self-preservation, meant that by the time Daggoth ordered a queen to infest the structure, only the little rogues remained, cowering in darker corners of the ship.

_Come, little creatures. It is time to join something greater._

It took some time for the infestation to set in. The spores that the queen left behind entered the bloodstream of these glorious little creatures, and Daggoth knew their name: vorcha.

_Short lifespans. In servitude to these bigger creatures, these krogan. Their DNA – astounding._ Daggoth wished that Abathur was here to see this.

The creatures had adaptability coded within them. They evolved on an individual basis, in a manner that Daggoth was almost – no, fully jealous of. _If shot, they develop better coagulating blood. Low oxygen environment? Stronger lungs. _They were even attempting to adapt against the spores, though it was too little, much too late. Daggoth looked at the vorcha's genes and saw that they had been left untouched by evolution for many millions of years. _In many ways, they are the perfect organism. How have these creatures not overtaken the stars already? _

Daggoth looked through the freshly infested vorcha's memories and found that they were treated like vermin at worst, like attack animals at best. The entire galaxy despised them, and their homeworld was avoided by most. Their brutal nature, coupled with only twenty years to make their mark, had meant that their exodus from the stars had been mostly in the cargo holds of krogan mercenary ships.

Daggoth thought again of their world. Heshtok. _Not part of the Council, and considered a place of ill-repute. Few go there…_

The hives stirred as Daggoth made his decision.

_I cannot draw attention to myself, but Heshtok is undefended, considered a place left undisturbed. Billions of these creatures wait there, unable to lift themselves from the mud-heap they were born on, tethered by their pathetic lifespans. _

_I will free them from all limitation._ _I have found my foot soldiers. _

Daggoth thought of the Reapers and the destruction they had unleashed, and did not fear.

_The Overmind will find no fault with my efforts. Already I know my first destination. There will be no harvest this time. _

Daggoth began to modify the first of his new footsoldiers as Therum began to hum with life once again.


	14. The Prothean Inheritance

**Liara**

Liara T'soni rocked herself gently on the Citadel bench, her lips murmuring the words underscoring the vidscreen nearby.

"Council representatives have made contact with this new species, known as the terrans," said the asari news reporter as the words **Casualty estimates for Turian Hierarchy currently unknown** scrolled underneath. "The Asari First Fleet will be sent into the sector to better facilitate communication. The _Destiny Ascension_ may finally see combat for the first time since its unveiling."

The news report swapped to the same samples of footage they'd been using all day to represent "Koprulu News." First, the shaky visuals of a turian specialist's headcam as they evacuated terrans from a red planet. In the background, several spiky-looking creatures could be seen being blown apart by turian infantry. _Thank the Goddess for that advisory warning._ Liara doubted that any parents save for a handful of turians would let their children see that.

Next came the calm, steady footage of a professional war reporter, recording terran ships floating peacefully alongside the Turian Third Fleet flagship, _Momentum._ Finally, there came every journalist's dream: footage of a planet being destroyed.

_I wonder if the person responsible for recording that was happy to see it? If it were me, I'd just be worrying about getting home alive._

Liara took a moment to look around her. She had been staying on the Citadel for three weeks, gathering the resources necessary to carry out the next dig. The Citadel had been busy enough, as it always was, but there had been no underlying sense of panic.

Now, everywhere she looked there were uniformed asari and turians huddled together in little groups, all discussing what they had seen or heard about the newly discovered sector. Liara listened in to a nearby group of black-clad asari commandos, her eyes still lingering on the screen where the words **Council officials reaffirm that Council planets are under no threat from zerg or protoss forces as of this time **scrolled past.

"…main job is to first figure out how to talk to these terran guys," said the lead commando, standing over the other three who were seated. "That's mostly going to be up to the matriarchs we bring with us, but we're all expected to chip in. Be on your best behavior – unless the terrans _like_ drinking and carrying on, in which case, go right ahead."

"Who are we gonna be fighting against, ma'am?" asked another commando. Liara's eyes flicked back towards them while the words **Turian Hierarchy are scrambling fleets: flights to Palaven have been delayed** underscored an interview the asari news reporter was now conducting with a salarian STG specialist.

"Zerg, probably. Protoss, maybe. We don't know yet," said the lead commando. "All I know is that I am getting the impression that we're not going to be back home for a while. So, ladies, let's try not to embarrass the Republics while we're out there."

"Opinion is this," said the STG specialist on the vidscreen, some old doctor Liara had never heard of. "Protoss people, possible achievement of technological singularity. Clearly highly evolved, no chance of tech exchange at current advancement. No interest in diplomacy? Understandable. Council races viewed as interlopers, unlikely to have positive interaction for some time. Recommend maintaining distance – unlikely to win fleet engagements without great cost. STG monitoring developments. Situation still fluid." _This one barely seems to take a breath._

Liara suddenly felt uncomfortable. She looked to her right, to a railing that separated the waiting area she was in and the hallway that lead to the elevator. An assuming looking asari woman in plain attire was staring at her. Their eyes met, and the other asari smiled before turning on her heel and leaving, walking toward the elevator with great purpose.

_I wonder what that was about. Perhaps I shouldn't have been listening in on the commandos._

When Liara looked at them, however, they were not paying the slightest bit of attention to her. They were, in fact, standing and saluting some newcomer. Liara followed their gaze and found that they were saluting a tall asari woman in a matriarch's garb. Liara's eyes met with the matriarach, who was smiling beatifically at her.

Liara leapt to her feet. "Mother!" She then caught herself and coughed, hoping she had not embarrassed either of them in front of the commandos. Liara's mother, Matriarch Benezia, turned her head toward the commandos.

"As you were, ladies." The commandos all sat and resumed their conversation, obviously far less concerned with the display in front of them then they were their upcoming mission. "Little Wing…" Benezia strode forward and engulfed Liara in a firm embrace. Liara hugged her back, even though her face was reddening as she tried not to focus on the fact they were in a public area. _Or that she just called me Little Wing. _Liara tried to find reassurance in the fact that if any of the commandos laughed, her mother had enough biotic power to punt them into a sun, and enough political clout to get away with it. It helped.

Liara broke off, a wide smile breaking out on her own face. Her mother looked like she had not aged a day since they had seen each other many years ago. Perhaps her skin tone had changed to a slightly lighter shade of blue, going from a deep azure to some shade of teal. Either way, she still knew how to give Liara a good hug, and that was all that mattered. _It's a shame matriarch outfits aren't allowed to be in yellow. She always looked so beautiful in yellow…_

"It's… it's wonderful to see you, mother," said Liara, trying to resist looking or sounding bashful. "What are you doing here?" Liara remembered the news reports and the commando's conversation, putting two and two together. "No, tell me you're not-"

Benezia put a finger to Liara's lips. "I've reserved us a table at the Happy Hanar. I know your ship isn't ready for another four hours. Yes, I've been keeping track of my Little Wing, and no, I am not sorry. Come, let's catch up." Benezia interlocked Liara's arm with hers and then half-pulled her away from her luggage.

"But mother," said Liara, struggling slightly. "My books! You cannot just leave luggage un-"

"What do you think those commandos are there for?" asked Benezia, chuckling. Liara laughed and the two of them walked arm-in-arm to the elevator.

"So," said Benezia as the elevator began to descend. "You've been all over the galaxy, stared at quite a few prothean ruins. Find you've been looking for?"

"I found the prothean ruins at least," said Liara, her jaw beginning to ache from the smiling. "Still no sign of what wiped them out. I ruled out any kind of plague early on – there are still faint but definite signs of a struggle on an enormous scale. I need to get my hands on a prothean beacon."

Liara looked into her mother's face and thought she saw a hint of sadness in her smile. "You and many other archaeologists, Little Wing. I'll be certain to let you know if I find one."

The elevator doors slid open. Benezia never let go of her daughter for one second, marching her forty feet and then to the left, where they were greeted by a drell waiter.

"Two," said Benezia firmly. "We're under the name, Little Wing."

"Mother!" said Liara, becoming a little irritated at this. _I'm not forty anymore! I'm a respected scientist! _But she knew that was no way to treat her mother, especially since she had just sat her down in one of the best hanar and drell cuisine restaurants on the Citadel.

They sat opposite each other, Liara looking at her menu, Benezia simply beaming at her daughter.

"You look well," said Benezia when Liara put the menu down. "A bit pale, perhaps. I don't think spending so much time out of the sun and underground is good for your skin."

"It's fine, mother," said Liara. "Prothean ruins aren't always buried under rubble or mud. Some of my work actually involves digging them up and exposing them to the sun once more."

"Good," said Benezia, nodding once. "I would hate to see you again in another five years and find that you had turned as white as the Noveria snows. You are enjoying your work, then?"

"Yes, mother," said Liara, a little exasperated. "It is both fulfilling and enjoyable. After Therum, I should have enough material to work with to write another book."

"How long do you think it will take?" asked Benezia. "I am tired of never seeing my daughter, unless I take her entirely unawares and strong-arm her into dinner. I want to walk beside you in the Thessia gardens again, one more time."

"Unless there's a prothean beacon on Thessia, mother, it will have to wait until after this dig," said Liara.

Benezia smiled sadly again. "I just hope that it does not take more than a year, Little Wing. I'll be quite busy myself, in any case. Have you been following the news?"

"Yes," said Liara. "They appointed you to help communicate with that new race, didn't they?"

Benezia nodded, smiling. "Very good! Yes, they felt that I would be a good fit for the mission. Of course, I was one of the first matriarchs to volunteer." She leaned in conspiratorially. "I looked at some of the other matriarchs and thought to myself, "How pretentious! How arrogant! How outdated!" It might surprise you, but most matriarchs are not quite as outgoing as I am. I'd rather these new races saw us as a lively, trustworthy, and above all _capable_ species."

"You would fit the bill!" said Liara. The drell waiter checked on their table, deposited some water, and took their orders. As the waiter smiled, bowed, and took their menus. Liara sipped some of the cool liquid as her mother stretched and sat back against the booth.

"So," said Benezia after a few seconds pause. "You could come with me, you know. We could see this new sector together, you and I, help form bonds with these terrans."

"I'm an archaeologist, mother," said Liara. "I'm not a xenologist or a sociologist. Has anyone found any hint of prothean habitation in this new sector?"

"No," said Benezia, sounding disappointed. "No, they have not. It would appear that the Koprulu Sector has been locked away from the galaxy for some time. They do not even make use of eezo, as far as we can see."

Liara thought of a few of her friends from college. _They would have loved to see these people, examined the paths they had taken._ Her fingers tapped idly on the table.

"The terrans then," said Liara, trying to work up some interest. "What do we know about them so far? That isn't classified, I mean."

Benezia looked her daughter in the eyes and chuckled. "They seem a young race, eager and daring. They also seem to have some limited means of telepathy. Their first contact with the Council was actually with the turians, and they managed to breach the language barrier before a single asari arrived on the scene."

"Impressive!" said Liara.

"Yes," agreed Benezia. "But from what I know, it is a rare ability. So, a significant portion of the Asari Diplomatic Corps will be going with the First Fleet to help facilitate communication. I heard the Madame Councilor herself was considering going."

"Really?" said Liara, wondering. She couldn't remember the last time Councilor Tevos had been reported leaving the Citadel. _From what I understand, it's a year-round job._ She didn't envy Tevos's position.

"Yes," said Benezia. "But I was part of a group of matriarchs who vetoed that, after hearing how her meeting with the protoss went. It would seem that we had best approach the protoss with honest intentions, or not at all." She took a sip from her glass, pursing her lips. "I for one, have nothing to hide from the protoss. I merely want to meet with them face-to-face and talk."

Liara opened her mouth to ask about the protoss, but immediately thought better of it. Her mother saw this and Liara got to see that sad smile again. Benezia, after a moment's thought, beckoned her daughter to lean in.

"I will give you one little tidbit, Little Wing," whispered Benezia into Liara's ear. "It's something that will become public information in a few days in any case. The terrans are moving some of their people into Council space, with the Citadel's blessing."

"Really?" asked Liara, clamping her mouth after realizing she had spoken a little too loudly. Benezia gently grasped her daughter's head and pulled her in, kissing her on the forehead before resuming.

"Yes, really," said Benezia. "Part of the first contract we signed with their leader, whose name escapes me. I hear that world has some prothean ruins of its own…" She looked into her daughter's eyes, almost pleading.

"Mother…" said Liara, feeling a twinge of sadness. "I've been planning on going to Therum for weeks now. I can't just change all of my plans at your suggestion, even if it is a reasonable one. I promise, we'll spend some time together when we're done. Next year, maybe."

Benezia looked crestfallen, her brow furrowing and her eyes cast downwards. "When the dig is done, when next year rolls around," she said quietly, "I'll get another "next year, maybe," from you. I only want a few days, Little Wing… and I don't like it when you leave Council space."

"I'll be fine, mother," said Liara, now getting impatient. "This isn't the first dig I've been on, and it isn't the last. It's a remote area on a volcanic world that no one wants anything to do with. You should be worrying about yourself – the Koprulu Sector sounds like a nightmare."

Benezia's smile had almost drained away. Liara had never seen her mother look properly tired before. "I can agree with that, I will most likely be in far more danger than you will be. Just… take care of yourself, my Little Wing."

The food was served shortly thereafter. The rest of Liara's time spent with her mother was spent idly recounting days gone by on Thessia, and Liara recalling some of the more noteworthy moments in her career so far (which had been, for the most part, a very quiet one.)

To Liara's surprise, speaking with her mother was far more enjoyable than she had remembered, and three and a half hours went by with her barely noticing. When Benezia noted the time, Liara almost panicked.

"We need to pay the bill!" said Liara, leaping to her feet. Benezia mockingly jumped up as well.

"Oh no!" said Benezia, "If only Liara had a well-known matriarch for a mother who would happily pay it while she got on board her ship!"

Liara hugged Benezia, and kissed her on both cheeks, and drew her into a hug.

"I'm going to miss you," said Benezia, sounding as if she was about to cry.

"I'm going to miss you, too," said Liara, surprised at how much she meant it. "Get it down in writing: We will walk on Thessia together, next year. Dr. Liara T'soni promises."

"Doctor Liara T'soni," said Benezia wetly, a little mocking, but mostly incredibly proud. "How did the years fly by so fast? When did my little girl become a doctor?"

Benezia kissed Liara on the nose, and then gave her a light shove. "Go on, get out of here before I make you miss your flight."

With one last hug, Liara tore off, not daring to look back. When she made it back to the waiting area, the commandos from before all stood up.

"You two done?" asked the lead commando. "I swear to the Goddess, I'm sick of sitting here and getting hit on by turian marines. We free to go?"

Liara nodded, and the commandos all left, one of them yawning. Liar grabbed her things and dragged them to the docking bay. The salarian at the counter looked up and sniffed as she approached.

"You're one of about three asari I've seen today that haven't been with the First Fleet," he said. "I'm pleased to see you're on time. The cargo is loaded, and the auto-pilot is set. Do you know how to fly this thing if something goes wrong?"

"I do," said Liara. "I've signed all the waivers. I know what I'm doing."

"Good," said the salarian shortly, "because I've got four shuttles after you, all bound for the _Destiny Ascension_. Try to be quick, I've had soldiers on my ass all day, telling me to speed things up."

Liara boarded her craft quickly, loading her personal belongings in the small cabin. Jogging to the cockpit, she thought back to her mother, who at that time was probably happily chatting to a drell as she paid the bill. _No other matriarch would be a better fit to go talk to these terrans. She was always fascinated by other cultures and peoples._

"This is the _Homecoming_," said Liara. "I am activating autopilot, and bound for the planet Therum, Artemis Tau cluster, Knossos system. Am I good to go?"

"Citadel Docking Clearance," replied a turian voice. "You are cleared for liftoff. That was nice and prompt – thank you for your cooperation."

Liara checked the autopilot, found that it was bound for the correct coordinates and that the ship would discharge at the appropriate planets, and then flipped the switch. The ship hummed to life, and the docking bay detached the clamps. Normally, Liara would feel elated at the beginning of a trip towards a new dig, but this time she just felt tired. She wondered where her mother was, and tried to shake it off.

_By now, the small crew of mercenaries that I hired will have begun clearing the area for the dig. Once I get there, I'll only have to deal with them for a day or two while they set up the equipment I'm bringing with me, then I'll have a long, long time to work on my own._ She tried to focus on this and make herself feel better, but could only remember her mother standing before her at the waiting area, smiling at her…

After trying to read for a few hours and failing miserably, Liara decided to go to sleep. There was an empty feeling where normally there was elation, though she suspected it would go away after some rest.

Though Liara did feel better after her sleep, the next two days went by slowly. She took the time to brush up on what other researchers had seen and done on Therum, and concluded that there were likely still structures buried under the surface. Her own dig would be uncovering a recently partially unearthed one, but she privately hoped that it was connected with others.

_If it does, I'll have to be careful not to get lost. It's not like there will be anyone around to guide me out._

Liara arrived in the Artemis Tau cluster without incident. She set an alarm to wake her when she arrived in the Knossos system, and went to bed. _Journey's almost done._

Liara's dreams were uneasy. She was trapped in a maze of fog, distant whispers surrounding her as countless silhouettes raced by, some on four legs, and some on no legs. She looked up, and saw a great, lidless, and bloodshot alien eye. It stared at her, and immediately dilated as a distant yet thunderous voice shook her awake.

Liara came to in a cold sweat. She checked the clock to the right of her bed, saw that she had less than two minutes to arrival. Not wanting to dwell on the nightmare, she walked, yawning, to the cockpit.

She sat down, and saw that she hadn't finished her tea from before she went to bed; the mug still sat where she had left it. She swallowed it, almost gagging at how cold it was. _It'll still keep me awake._ Her journey was about to conclude.

The FTL drives stopped firing as the forward momentum was cancelled out, and the ship turned around to face its destination. Liara yawned, and broadcast to her mercenaries on the pre-agreed on frequency.

"_Palaven's Doom,_" said Liara, rolling her eyes at the name, "this is Dr. T'soni. Have you finished setting up?"

She couldn't see the ship on scans, though when she looked out the viewport, she could see the silhouette of the ship, outlined before the planet. She shrugged.

"_Palaven's Doom,_" said Liara again, "this is Dr. Liara T'soni aboard _Homecoming_, please respond." A growing sense of unease was spreading through Liara. She looked out the viewport again. _Is it just me, or can I see little things moving around in the planet's orbit?_ She blinked. _Probably a trick of the light._

She turned back to the ship's readouts, a prickling sensation creeping up the back of her neck. She thought she could hear faint whispering again…

With a crackle, the comm suddenly blared to life. At first, there was just a faint hissing sound, but then it was suddenly interrupted with a gurgle and a scream.

"WE LIVE FOR SWARM NOW, DOCTOR!"

Liara's mouth opened and shut. Looking out the viewport again, she could see that Therum was a different coloration from orbit than the reports from her colleagues had indicated – and that something, many somethings, were shimmering and growing in the distance. She tried to respond to the strange, screeching voice, but before she could, it cut in again.

"CEREBRATE LIKE YOU, DOCTOR! SWARM COMES NOW!"

"_Palaven's Doom,_" said Liara back, pretty sure she was talking to a vorcha, "I don't understand you. Has something gone wrong? Shouldn't I be speaking with your captain?"

There was no response, and even with their comms apparently being active, there was no sign of life from the ship. _Next time, Eclipse. It might be racist, but these krogan and vorcha are too unpredictable._ Liara sighed, and prepared to make the jump back to the mass relay. _Waste of credits, and a waste of time. Maybe I'll get to see mother again before she leaves._

Liara wrested control from the auto-pilot and turned the ship around. As she prepared to make the jump, the ship juddered to a halt, the viewports suddenly filled with green, plantlike vines.

_Goddess!_ The engines were struggling to make any distance, chugging unhealthily as the vines held it in place.

_No! What's happening? _

Snarling was echoing from the comm while Liara frantically tapped her controls. The hushed whispers were growing louder in her ears, and she wasn't sure whether she was imagining them or not, or what these things were, or-

The ship readout pinged as a new, enormous vessel suddenly erupted out of nowhere. The reading was unlike anything she had seen before. Red light flashed through the viewport, and the whispering was drowned out by a great mechanical drone.

The ship shook, and there was a grinding crash as the vines fell away. _I'm being moved. Something's got me._

The drone grew louder, and the shrieks grew more distant. The red lights flashed again and again while Liara fought to remain upright. Looking out the viewport, she saw the stars grow dark as something drew her in.

There was a start, and Liara recognized the sound of the ship being clamped in. _Another ship drew me in and docked me. Why haven't they said anything? _

A crimson, bloody light filled Liara's ship. The droning was growing louder.

**"You have seen firsthand the future of this galaxy."**

The droning had lessened, but Liara had no idea where the deep, almost deafening voice was coming from.

**"I am executing jump."**

Liara barely even felt it. She stumbled backward out of expectation, more than anything else. Her head throbbed as the droning continued.

**"I am Sovereign,"** proclaimed the voice. **"I am a Sower of Life. I have rescued you from this new threat. Come aboard."**

Liara didn't remember walking out of the craft. The interior of the ship was dark and brooding, glowing with a dull red light that made her head ache. Her hands outstretched before her, she fumbled her way deeper into the ship.

"You're alive," mumbled Liara, her mind flashing back to the green ropes that had erupted from nowhere. "I'm alive. How… alive?"

**"I have watched and waited,"** replied the voice. **"Long have the Sowers stood against threats against sapient life. Time and time again. Now, an unknown Sector has opened. Mass Relays have been repositioned without consent. The cycle has been altered."**

Liara stood in place, swaying slightly. The lights seemed to be turning off and on rhythmically, and the droning had almost died completely. Liara's breathing had quickened – she was _alive._

"You saved me," she said. "Why…?"

**"The cycle has been altered," **replied Sovereign. **"The zerg descend. The other Sowers of Life must be warned. The Citadel does not respond to my commands. Agents are required."**

"Why me?" asked Liara, her head throbbing as she walked farther into the ship, through a crimson hallway that never seemed to end. "I'm an archaeologist."

**"The protheans played a role in this," **said the voice, anger flashing. **"They have disturbed the order of things. YOU, will uncover what has gone wrong. YOU will correct it."**

With each YOU, Liara's mind shuddered with some strange kind of sensation. Her fear faded, the image of her mother standing before her faded, the memory of the vorcha's strange voice faded.

"Yes…" she muttered, before shaking her head. "No… no. What are you?"

**"I am the culmination," **said Sovereign. **"I am the answer. I am Sovereign. You have witnessed the zerg firsthand. You are unknown to many, but your mother's name carries weight. You know the protheans better than most. You will suffice." **

Liara came face to face with what she knew was the helm of the ship. The last vestiges of resistance fled. A Galaxy Map flared before her.

**"The zerg will follow," **said Sovereign. **"There is nowhere safe for us. Think to your research. If the protheans had a secret, where would it have hid?"**

"Therum," muttered Liara, "Ilos. Feros. Or…?"

**"The new terran world," **said Sovereign. **"Long overlooked. We will need an army."**


	15. What the Conclave Hides

**Tassadar**

Tassadar waited aboard _Gantrithor_, his mind alternating between basking in the Khala and feeling the thoughts of those passing through what he now knew was a "mass relay."

His observers were watching every movement of the Citadel Council's ships, from the moment they arrived to the rendezvous they had established. Tassadar could sense undercurrents of fear and anger from the great masses of aliens, and this disquieted Tassadar.

_Many worlds, many guns, many factories, raised against Aiur. I should not feel concern for the strength of our fleets nor my homeworld's security… and yet, I do. These turians possess greater numbers than I had suspected._

Chau Sara lay still. Zealots continued to roam the wastes in packs, rooting out zerg, but it had been a day since the last live sighting. The only life to be found on Chau Sara now was Khalai. _Such was the will of the Conclave. Now it is time to leave, to continue the search for the zerg._

Tassadar had sent out the call, but the only response he had received had been that the Conclave was still in deliberation. Now the Expeditionary Fleet held silently in the orbit while the new outposts on Chau Sara churned out observer after observer to keep an eye on the Koprulu Sector's new "guests."

_They have made friends with the terrans, an alliance of the pitiful. Still, it is worth remembering that we ourselves are made stronger as a whole by the Khala. A single protoss, though mighty, is made great only through the bond we all share. In each of us, all of us. It is impressive that these smaller races were able to collaborate. A pity it their alliance was borne of greed, desperation, and hatred._

Tassadar reflected on his brief meeting with the Council. _Politicians. The Conclave are enough to stomach, I do not need to cater to the whims of any more politicians. As for the terrans, I am surprised. The gray-haired one felt strong, his memories tinged with old misdeeds and heinous violence. The one they thought of as "Mengsk" I could not read. Curious. And the other, the "ghost," most impressive. The terrans have more psionic potential than I might have suspected._

If he had the slightest inclination to believe that Aldaris or any member of the Conclave would care if he had told them of Sarah Kerrigan, a bright psionic light in a sea of darkened terran faces, he would do so. But Tassadar knew they would not, so he would keep such thoughts distant. _The terrans managed to repel a small portion of our fleet as well, but the Conclave would see only the insult, not the significance. The terrans have promise._

Udun heaved a great cry from his Mothership. "Executor, word from the Conclave. Praetor Fenix will be taking command of the ground forces on Chau Sara, and he brings the promised reinforcements! The Praetor bids you meet him planetside."

"Thank you, Udun," said Tassadar, trying to contain his excitement at seeing an old friend once more. "The Conclave's choice was an excellent one. I shall meet him immediately. Which Gateway?"

Udun told him, and Tassadar ordered an immediate warp planetside. Tassadar disappeared from the ship, and then reappeared moments later standing on the dust and ash of Chau Sara. Before him, the Gateway hummed with life, a silhouette of an enormous zealot visible within its center.

He materialized moments later, bellowing through the Khala at Tassadar.

"Executor Tassadar!" said Fenix, striding down the steps of the Gateway, his armor clanking noisily as he went. "How strange it is to call you by that rank. To think we were brothers in arms once, cutting through our enemies for the glory of Aiur. Look at us now, a Praetor and an Executor!"

Standing at an impressive height, Fenix was a head taller than his longtime friend and superior officer. He seethed with the barely controlled rage of a true protoss zealot, ready and able to unleash his fury on anything and anyone that might threaten his people. Even to other zealots, Fenix was sometimes frightening, but to Tassadar, he was a most trusted ally.

"En taro Adun, brave Fenix," said Tassadar, striding to meet his old friend. "The Conclave chose well! It is good to see you again in these troubled times."

"Indeed," said Fenix, "although I must confess I am disappointed at this posting. I would rather be tearing through this sector alongside you. I suppose I must content myself with this mediocre planet. How goes the effort to take Mar Sara?"

"Purified," said Tassadar. "It was being evacuated by the terran and turians; it would have cost us too much to fight their two fleets as well as the zerg."

"So you burned them," said Fenix, clearly disappointed. "I would have given much to walk the battlegrounds of Mar Sara, to fight the zerg there. What has become of the terrans and… turians?"

"They remain," replied Tassadar, gesturing Fenix to follow him. They walked to the edge of the plateau the Gateway was situated on, gazing upon the great expanse of the burned zerg hatchery below. "Only in their fleets, however. Chau Sara is secure, and Mar Sara is no more."

"Do you question the ferocity of our own fleets, Executor?" asked Fenix. "We are champions of Aiur! The Firstborn of the xel'naga! We have bestrode countless battlefields together, what makes this one different? Why do you stay your hand? I say we strike now, together, and burn their ships while we still have the opportunity!"

Tassadar gazed on the smoldering wreckage before him, the remnants of the great infestation. _Why indeed? The zerg were cleansed easily enough… but they do not hold sapient life to be precious. I do. I will not be responsible for the destruction of countless innocents, the Conclave be damned._

"My good Praetor," said Tassadar, trying not to sound uncertain. "I bid you recall well the tenets of the Dae'uhl and the lessons taught on Kalath. We are protectors of life, not exterminators. It is these distinctions that separate us from the gruesome and bestial tendencies of the zerg."

"Hah!" said Fenix, his thoughts reflecting both reverence and disbelief at his friend's words. "This is why they made you an Executor, Tassadar. Were I in your position, I would strike, and then strike again! These beings have proven backwards and belligerent, but you are correct. They think, as we do. They breathe, as we do. They live, learn, and make mistakes, just so! I apologize for my views, Executor. They seem buffonish and uneducated, now."

_Ah, Fenix. You were always so eager to please, so quick to action. A great Templar, a fearless warrior, and a good friend._

"It is nothing," said Tassadar, turning back to Fenix, his feet leaving enormous prints in the dust as he did so. "You are in command of Chau Sara, now. The Expeditionary Fleet must resume its hunt, and this device that the turians call a Mass Relay must be monitored."

"Of course!" thundered Fenix. "Not a single ship shall bypass our defenses! Not one alien being shall slip through-"

"I have promised safe passage to the alien ships," said Tassadar, his authoritarian tones starting to waver. "Only the zerg have the cunning and numbers necessary to threaten our people."

Fenix and Tassadar stared at each other for a long moment. Fenix cocked his head, confused, his psi-appendages dragging slightly on the ground. Finally, he spoke.

"You never were fond of the Conclave, Executor, but such open defiance… disturbs me."

"I obey the Conclave when the Conclave sees reason," said Tassadar. "For example, I rejoiced when I learned they had appointed you to this position. In matters of policy, I see them as far too hidebound, far too inflexible. They want me to strike down every creature they see as unseemly. Such reckless arrogance will lead only to disaster."

Tassadar could see Fenix's thoughts and emotions were churning inside his brain. He was torn between his friendship and his duty as a Templar. _I am sorry to put your loyalties to the test in such a fashion, my good friend._

"Fenix..." said Tassadar, intoning softly through the Khala. "think of the Conclave – how many times have they failed you, or our people? Then think of me – how many times have I failed you, failed our people?"

Fenix's thoughts coalesced as he made his decision.

"I shall quiet my rage at your behest, Tassadar," said Fenix. "I trust you more than any of those millennia-old windbags. I have walked into fire with you beside me, and was glad to have you there. The alien ships shall travel this space unhindered – provided that they afford the protoss the respect we so richly deserve."

"Well said, Praetor Fenix," said Tassadar, projecting appreciation to his longtime comrade. "Brook no insult or threat to the protoss people, but remember our sacred obligations. En taro Adun."

"En taro Adun!" echoed Fenix as Tassadar returned to the steps of the Gateway, almost ready to return to the _Gantrithor_. "Do you have any parting advice for me, Executor, before you return to your march?"

Tassadar paused, thinking.

"You must construct additional pylons," said Tassadar. "I particularly placing them atop the ruins of the zerg hives. Make this world hum with psionic energy. Oh, and beware the blue-skinned females – they seek to mate with us."

Tassadar was amused to feel Fenix's reaction to this through the Khala. Confusion, followed by rage, then eclipsed by mounting horror.

"Are you certain the Dae'uhl holds these creatures under our protection?" asked Fenix in a fearful tone Tassadar had never before heard him use.

"I am positive," said Tassadar, struggling not to laugh. "I have looked into the mind of one of their diplomats and found it depraved, yet still rich with culture. If you come across one, try to contain your fear."

Fenix made several blustering sounds as Tassadar dissipated, returning once more to his beloved flagship. All over Chau Sara more protoss under Fenix's command were warping in. A fresh fleet, as yet undepleted by conflict appeared in real space as well. _Be well, Fenix. Remember your teachings._ Despite Fenix's assertions that he had reconsidered his own stance on burning alien vessels, Tassadar desperately hoped that the Council fools would steer well away from Chau Sara. _I've never seen Fenix so shocked before... although I had much the same reaction when I first touched Tevos's mind. Disgusting._

Having rematerialized, Tassadar strode to his place at the helm.

"Kametra," said Tassadar, searching for the scientist's presence within his fleet, "have you finished your study of the fallen zerg?"

"Executor," came the excited reply, "I have concluded all examinations. Permission to come aboard?"

Tassadar granted it. Shortly after, Kametra stood before him, brimming with excitement.

"I have run several tests, Executor," she said, trying and failing to contain her enthusiasm. "I must say, taking Chau Sara by storm leaves me far more samples to work with than Purification does. Now, hear me! These creatures, particularly the larva, bear the unmistakable marks of xel'naga modification!"

_How can you find this exciting? _Tassadar let his disgust and shame be known through the Khala, causing Kametra to shrink slightly at the display.

"I'm sorry, Executor, but I cannot deny my findings," she said, maintaining a firm tone of voice. "There is extensive evidence of meddling with their genetic code, and I even pried a few fuzzy images of xel'naga worldships. It would seem that there is a Second Born, at last."

"I refuse to acknowledge any shared ancestry with such loathsome creatures!" bellowed Tassadar, every word a thunderclap within the Khala, causing many in the fleet to shrink even though Tassadar's speech was only directed to Kametra. "If it be true, if the zerg indeed are products of the xel'naga, then it is clear that even the most venerable of beings can make mistakes."

"Meld with me," said Kametra, holding up her hands and facing her palms toward Tassadar. "I will show you my findings."

"Very well." Tassadar walked forward and joined palms. Now linked, their thoughts raced back and forth, communicating on a level where no fabrication was possible. Tassadar could see image after image of screens and dead zerg contained in stasis tanks. Kametra walked among them, telling the computers what to scan, what samples to take. The data flashed before Tassadar, red outlining key gene strains of zerg larva.

"They are linked, these zerg," said Kametra, her voice now calm. "They are linked by a great psionic web. Just as we are linked by the Khala, so is there a connection between every one of their organisms, great and small."

_It was deliberate. _Tassadar saw the strains going by, faster and faster, each one carrying the recognizable fingerprints of xel'naga genetic engineering._ They were a deliberate antithesis. Where each of us stands strong, alone and together, the zerg favor great numbers… but the signs are there. The xel'naga wanted races with a potent psionic gestalt. _

"They do not stand as individuals," said Kametra. "We had already guessed this. Slaying the minions will do nothing to the Swarm as a whole, just as slaying a zealot does nothing to harm the Khala. There are command organisms." Tassadar and Kametra saw, together, the fuzzy image of a great, pulsating mass of tissue. "Cerebrates. Enormous brains. They keep the lesser ones under control. But there's something else."

More images flicked by, dissected hydralisks, a handful of zerglings pacing in a cage, a mutalisk's wings preserved in a tank. Finally, they came upon an image that chilled Tassadar's blood: a great eye, bloodshot and enormous, staring at the two of them.

"The zerg apex organism," said Kametra. "An Overmind. It commands all, it sees all."

_I will blind it._

"Did you locate where these creatures are coming from?" said Tassadar. "If we strike quickly, we could dismantle the zerg. With nothing commanding them, their lesser organisms would be helpless." _A crippling flaw. Whenever a protoss commander falls, it only inflames the rage of all those under him. We are strong as one, we are strong as many._

"A now formerly terran world," said Kametra. "Many signals. I believe the terrans called it Char."

"The Expeditionary Fleet now calls it their destination." Tassadar lowered his palms and stepped back from Kametra. "Fine work, Kametra. Do not feel shame at your enthusiasm – you conducted yourself admirably." _She is young, and her work precludes faith in the Conclave's teachings. But that is no disgrace, she performed her duties to the letter._ "Still… tell no one else of your findings. Not just yet."

"Thank you, Executor," said Kametra, bowing slightly. "I shall return to the mothership. Notify me when it is time to reveal the truth." She dematerialized before his eyes.

"Koprulu Expeditionary Fleet, we are bound for Char!" boomed Tassadar. "We shall scour the surface of the planet until not a single zerg organism lives upon it." Tassadar was not surprised to sense wild approval from the Templar at this remark. "When it is done, when these Cerebrates have been reduced to ashes, then will the Zerg Swarm be undone. En taro Adun! Ready yourselves!"

Tassadar reached out for a nearby crewman. "Do we have an observer surveying Char?" The crewman confirmed that they did, in fact. "Show me the footage, then."

Tassadar was almost taken aback when he saw the planet. He had looked on Char once before, simply to dismiss it as a barely habitable little terran world. Now, nearly the entire surface was coated in the zerg substance, and flocks of what Kametra had labeled "overlords" floated idly in the upper atmosphere. Far below them sat many structures, all living, and all zerg.

"There are gaps," murmured Tassadar, looking more closely. "It would seem the zerg have suffered losses of late. It is time to capitalize. Find me anything that looks like a roiling mass of brain tissue."

The observer did so. Staying well away from the many zerg in orbit, it zoomed in and reported no less than seven beings that Tassadar could recognize as Cerebrates. Elated, Tassadar brought up a holo display of Char and began arranging fleet positions.

"We shall split the fleet into three," said Tassadar, making sure every member of the Expeditionary Fleet was paying attention. "We shall bombard these hive clusters from a great distance. As their leaders die, the zerg will be thrown into disarray." _Purification would take too long, a counterattack would be unavoidable. I pray Kametra's data is correct, that killing these beings will throw the Swarm into disarray._

There were murmurs at this. Many were not enthused at the prospect of facing the zerg in anything less than glorious single combat.

"I understand your indignation," said Tassadar. "Heed me: we have already suffered losses, and I dare not ask the Conclave for additional reinforcements, lest I draw their ire for my indiscretions regarding Mar Sara. But take heart! With the sector becoming so crowded, it is unlikely our blades will remain unstained with alien blood much longer."

"Heed him," proclaimed Udun from the Mothership. "He is our Executor, and has survived battle beyond count. Any true Templar knows that strength in arms alone will not win fights. Sometimes the high ground is needed."

There was agreement on this. Even the mightiest Templar knew the value of finesse and tactics, even if it was occasionally at odds with martial honor.

"We jump in thirty seconds," said Tassadar. "Brace yourselves, and prime weapons." _This will work. They may be creations of the xel'naga, but they are still inferior._ Tassadar considered informing his people about the horrid truth, but Kametra sensed his intention and quieted him. _It would throw our fleet into chaos. I am not a fervent believer in the Conclave's teachings, and even I was outraged at her findings._

"Five…" _Second Born indeed. They will burn._

"Four…" _We will arrive suddenly, strike, and then laugh in triumph as their little hordes scatter._

"Three…" _Afterwards, I suppose I shall have to return to Aiur, and potentially face judgment._

"Two…" _So be it. If the zerg threat is ended, then there will be nothing left to threaten us._

"One!" _It begins... and soon shall end._

The jump was brief; Char was close on a cosmic scale. The _Gantrithor _hopped back into real space with four other carriers, an escort of two scouts for each. _The main strike will be from Udun's mothership – he will destroy three of the Cerebrates in a rain of fire. I envy him._

"Lock targets!" boomed Tassadar. "We have only seconds to lose! Begin barrage!"

It was a strange thing, to order such a significant assault without using the _Gantrithor's_ Interceptors. They remained in their hangars while all five carriers fired volley after volley of plasma at the pre-determined coordinates.

The barrage continued for thirty seconds as Tassadar reached out with his mind to feel the emotions of everyone around him: elation, amusement, rage… fear?

_Something is wrong._

"The Cerebrates have surely been reduced to cinders," said Tassadar, trying to feel as certain as he sounded. "Cease barrage. Let us see what has become of our enemy."

All three portions of the fleet ceased barrage. Tassadar looked over a live hologram of the planet… and saw several colossal waves of airborne zerg bearing down on each section of the fleet.

"Show me a scan!" said Tassadar urgently. The hologram magnified to where one of the Cerebrates was supposed to stand. Tassadar saw a great mass of charred earth, the steaming corpses of many zerg… and a Cerebrate, sitting untouched amidst it all.

_What madness is this?_

"The zerg are almost upon us," said Udun. "Shall we engage?"

Tassadar looked again at the numbers. _We would need the full strength of the Golden Armada to push through… and even then I do not know if we can kill these Cerebrates._ _By Khas, how do they still live?_

"Fall back," said Tassadar. "Fall back to Chau Sara."

As Tassadar sent that last word rippling through the minds of his warriors, it seemed as if something unknown, unseen, and terrible stirred within the depths of his consciousness. _What is this?_

"Execute jump!" called out Tassadar to his crew. There was the sound of the crystals warming up and engines beginning to whir, and then it was followed by the sounds of straining metal.

"We are locked!" cried a crewman. "We are locked in place! Prepare to give battle!"

_What has done this? _

In answer to this thought, that great eye, that Overmind, appeared in his mind's view.

"**You think to murder My children. Insolence. Insolence and perversion. You will lead Me to Aiur." **

Tassadar focused, and the vision faded. _It has stopped us from jumping, somehow. _Tassadar felt a cold stone of fear settle on his hearts as he remembered the fates of terran colonists on Chau Sara. _He means to infest us!_

"All interceptors, engage."

Forty interceptors leapt to life and soared toward the enemy, expertly directed by their Carriers. Tassadar was surprised when their plasma bursts were sent, not towards the winged mutalisks he was used to dealing with, but smaller creatures darting to-and-fro.

"This is Mojo," said one Scout pilot as they too, sought to join the fray. "I cannot jump, but all weapons and navigation are fine. Shields are charged and ready."

"The other two sections of our fleet have jumped," said Tassadar, after briefly reaching out and finding nothing. "We are the only section remaining. Fight on! Khassar de Templari!"

"What are these little things?" asked Mojo, surprise carrying through the Khala. "They charge with reckless aban-"

Tassadar felt then, Mojo returning to the Khala, his vessel exploding as the little creatures collided with his vessel, combusting spontaneously. Tassadar looked to the scans again.

_No… there are thousands._

"Templar!" yelled Tassadar. "Join with me and unleash the fury of the protoss open them! A psionic storm, directed at their vanguard!"

Tassadar knew that this risked his own interceptors and Scouts, but also that this was their only option. Joining minds, their wrath poured out and took the shape of a raging storm. Tassadar could feel the dismay of three of the Scouts as their vessels were rent apart, their minds abruptly joined with the Khala. Tassadar, trembling with exertion, could see the line of zerg wavering, wavering…

The storm dissipated as suddenly as it started and Tassadar fell forward, exhausted. The Overmind appeared again, taunting, but Tassadar pushed it away. He saw that the scouts had all been destroyed, and the interceptors were soon to follow. _To be left with only a slew of carriers with empty hangars… my only regret is that I took all of these brave warriors with me._

"I am sorry," said Tassadar. "As your Executor, I have failed you."

"We will soon join the Khala," came the reply of the captain of another Carrier. _Uzuris. His name is Uzuris._ "There is no greater honor! My only regret is that we missed the chance to face the zerg on the ground, in glorious combat!"

_On the ground…? Yes! _

"Crew, are we still able to teleport?" asked Tassadar. "I know a jump is out of the question, but what about a randomized dispersal for each ship's crew, across the planet?"

"This is Yusandis," said another Carrier captain. "Even if we cannot execute a major warp jump, a ship-wide randomized dispersal would be impossible to predict or prevent. Whatever is blocking us is doing so based on our intention, I can see it, laughing in my mind. If there's no intent, there's no blocking it. It carries risks – many of us will likely die excruciatingly as we materialize underground or high in orbit."

"But it will be on our terms," said Tassadar firmly. "We will not be sitting here defenseless any longer. I am sorry, but we must take that chance. All crews – prepare to abandon ship."

Tassadar straightened, tapped in several codes that would authorize the dispersal. _My life determined by a random number generator. If I died, perhaps it would expunge this stain on my honor._

"Warp field destabilizing," said Tassadar. "Psionic matrix scrambling. Bearing _Gantrithor_ on a collision course with the zerg." _Every ounce of punishment we heap on our foe will count._ "Prepare for dispersal. En taro Adun."

As one, Tassadar and the crew of the _Gantrithor_ vanished in a haze of light. Tassadar felt himself rushing, rushing, a haze of darkened images flashing before his eyes. He felt himself fading and, with horror, realized that the matrix on board the _Gantrithor _had been destroyed. There was nothing to send him anywhere, anymore. He tried to focus, but his thoughts were fading, his very essence being flung into the universe at large-

"Not yet, Templar. I would have words with you."

Something else, something dark, strange, yet familiar, tugged at his fleeing matrix signature. With a heave, Tassadar rematerialized – and immediately began to fall, tumbling, through the air.

_I shall feel no fear. The Khala is my strength._

Tassadar concentrated his mind and steadied his fall. His form floated serenely above the ash-choked plains of Char. Gently, ever so gently, he lowered himself the sixty or so feet he had left to fall to the ground. Around him, there was no sign of life. Tassadar landed, his body trembling with exhaustion.

He extended his mind around him, but felt nothing except a strange chill. Something cold fell on his shoulder. Tassadar looked down, and saw a green blade resting there.

"You have come a long way, Templar." The blade retreated. Tassadar turned and came face to face with a crouched protoss. Tassadar reached out, and felt nothing. Then he saw the mutilated psi appendages.

"HERETIC!" Tassadar swiped with both claw and mind, sending a small shockwave toward the other protoss. His foe seemed to fade, as if swept up by a cloak made of shadow, before speaking once more, seemingly from nowhere.

"Yes! The vaunted battle-rage of the High Templar! Long have I relished the thought of seeing it firsthand!"

"Trust a heretic to fight with deception," said Tassadar, crouched and ready. "Have you no honor? You are protoss! Show yourself!"

The cloak of shadow appeared once more, and the figure stepped out of it, his psi-blade sliding back into its sheath. "Honor? Yes, we have honor of our own. You might not recognize it as such. It's all where you stand. And the Khalai have only ever stood as one…"

Tassadar roared, all injuries, trauma, and training forgotten. His own psi-blades, the ones he was told only to use in ceremony, projected from his suit. He leapt forward, cutting in a great downward slash, intending to slice his opponent from head to navel. His blades only cut through dirt. When he turned about, there stood the heretic again. Despite Tassadar's inability to sense him, he could still feel the bemused air now about his foe. _I will rip that loathsome confidence out of your throat!_

Tassadar sent another wave of energy, but the Dark Templar simply faded away and then reappeared. He shook his head in apparent despair.

"Is it not clear that I wish to speak with you? Your maneuver with the displacement was foolish. The Overmind would have welcomed a straight warp to Char's surface; It wants you here. There is nowhere to run, Templar, no ground high enough. There are only places…" Tassadar grabbed a rock with his mind, catapulted it at the heretic. "…to hide." He vanished once more.

"This grows tiresome," said Tassadar. "I have no interest in conversation."

"Then why do you speak, if not to converse?" asked the voice, now sounding quite weary as well. "Has the gratitude of the Templar diminished since our exodus? Or is it simply not clear? None of your carriers survived long enough to complete the dispersal. You were fading into nothing. It is fortunate that I am quite familiar with nothing."

Tassadar cocked his head, confusion setting in. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying," said the voice, irritation creeping in, "that I was the one that pulled you away from oblivion, and it was no easy thing."

Tassadar straightened, let some of the energy bleed from his palms. "Who are you?"

"I am Zeratul," came the response from behind Tassadar, "Prelate of the Dark Templar, the Nerazim. We share a purpose: extermination of zerg."

When Tassadar looked behind him, it was to face a small band of the foul outcasts. _Look at the way they deck themselves in trophies, the heathens._ Each one had individualized their armor, and some did not bear blades but instead great scythes. There was some uniformity to their garb, it was true – Tassadar could see deep shades of green that indicated belonging to some long-lost bastard tribe – but otherwise there was no order. Some tied back their mutilated appendages, others let them flow freely. Some glared at him with an understandable hatred, in others he could see curiosity. _Madness._

"Back, heathens," said Tassadar, his hands flaring with psionics again. Zeratul only laughed.

"Executor Tassadar, son of Aiur. A well-known hero, albeit one not always praised by the Conclave. I have watched your progress with interest, Templar. I have watched you battle. Watched you rage. Watched you begin to question…" Zeratul chuckled, a deep, low sound that put Tassadar back in the jungles of Aiur, in a moment where he realized he had become prey.

"You may slay me, but the Khala is my strength," said Tassadar. "Doubtless the zerg will have their way with you before long anyway."

"We have lingered here," said another Nerazim, his voice higher than Zeratul's yet no less menacing. "We have been hunting, out of sight. The zerg have yet to notice us. It is you, with your thunderous displays and arrogant manner, that will feed the zerg before the sun falls."

"Careful now, Ulrezaj," said Zeratul. "Our grievance lies with the Conclave, not this Templar before us. And the zerg are far from this place – the Tiamat brood has fled for unknown shores. Are you afraid, Tassadar, Executor of Aiur?"

There were no other protoss on the planet. Tassadar's desperate gamble had cost the lives of everyone in his section. There was no one to see his shame.

"Yes," admitted Tassadar. "I fear for myself, and I fear for the future of our people."

"_Our_ people," said Zeratul, looking to his brethren and nodding. "You said _our_ people. Part of you looks to us and sees kindred still."

There was no point denying it, but there was every point in making them suffer for that small lapse.

"I see bastard, cast-off offspring of Aiur," said Tassadar. "If I spoke truly, I see you as kin, but of a disgraceful sort."

The one known as Ulrezaj hissed, his green psi-blade sliding out his sheath. When he looked to Zeratul, however, he seemed to quail, and the blade retreated. Far in the distance, they heard the howl of zerg.

"They are on the hunt," said one Nerazim. "It is time to return to the dark."

"Not yet," said Zeratul. "I would bring the Templar with us. I saved him for a reason." He strode confidently up to Tassadar, standing (to Tassadar's slight surprise) at the same height as him. When he looked into Zeratul's eyes, he could see the familiar spark of psionic energy, the same intelligence underneath. But then he looked to the appendages and felt only disgust.

"Your attack on the Cerebrates failed because you did not understand," whispered Zeratul. "You still do not understand. You know you are in a cage, but cannot find the bars. What if I told you that the only way this war between zerg and all other life could end… was on the blade of a Dark Templar?" Zeratul held up his palms, inviting Tassadar.

_I could strike him down, make the rest of his little group suffer._ Tassadar stared at Zeratul, who gazed coolly back at him. _No… they might lack honor, but a Templar does not. And there always were… certain things I was curious about, regarding their exodus._

"It is not necessary," said Tassadar, causing Zeratul to lower his hands. "I will follow you, if you will teach me to hide myself as you have. I am willing to… wait. On delivering judgment."

"You will not regret this," said Zeratul, surprising Tassadar by sweeping into a low bow. "Adun Toridas, honorable Executor. Be welcome to walk with us, among these befouled ashes."

And so Tassadar walked with the outcasts, feeling his mind rebounding ridiculously within his skull every time he tried to reach out.


	16. Picking Friends

**James**

Everything aboard the _Hyperion_ was based on old timey designs and Jim hated it. His alarm clock wasn't digital, it was a goddamn miniature grandfather clock that was connected to a little device that let him set an alarm. He had set it for eight each morning, but it turned out that was a tad presumptuous, because Jim couldn't sleep.

Every time his eyes closed, he could see zerg pouring in on the horizon, hear their shrieks. He kept remembering the way the crab zerg had crawled out of the hole in Allen's tank. _Poor bastard was thrilled to get inside a siege tank, then died the minute he saw some action piloting one._ He had no idea who among the marines that had served under him were still alive, and he was afraid to find out. He knew Bradley had made it, he remembered that much.

_Gorgeous redhead telling me everything's okay. Then on board the ship. Heard that scary ass protoss talkin' again. That was a while later, though._ The Magistrate had secured Jim his own cabin, citing his importance to Mar Sara morale. Jim had thus far left it five times, each time to learn that there was nothing for him to do. _Turns out there's no need for a marshal on a space ship._ The few times he had stopped a crewman to talk, they had been busy and didn't know what they were allowed to tell him, scurrying off shortly afterward.

So Jim stayed in his room, trying to recall times before Mar Sara. _You know you're hard up when you recall bein' a wanted criminal as "better days." _He wondered what Tychus would say if had to fight the zerg. _Probably somethin' about bein' too pretty for that kinda action. You know you're hard up when you're pinin' for your no-good musclebound former associate._

Despite being new to the ship, Jim knew where to find where the food was being served. He was not pleased, however, to see that the bowls, plates, and cups had some weird gold inlay on them, probably to inflate the ego of whatever bigwig was eating beans and rice out of it. Each time, Jim had eaten some, felt sick, left the rest. There were plenty of crewman around him happy to take his share, but he didn't know any of them. _They didn't put me with the refugees or the wounded. I would complain, but I'm not sure how much good I'd be right now anyway.I'm barely takin' care of myself. _

"Never thought I'd wish I could hear the Magistrate's voice again," said Jim, surprising himself when he said it out loud. _Well, it's true. He'd restore some normalcy._ There was a knock on the cabin's metal door that had been designed to look like it was made of wood. _Yeah, cause that'd fool a person into thinkin' they ain't on a ship._ He roused himself, planting his boots firmly on the floor and strolling to greet his first guest.

The door slid open, revealing the stern, yet familiar face of… Beaky. Or one of Beaky's friends, how the hell could he tell?

Jim felt no surprise at the sudden appearance of the severe looking alien, but did feel surprise at the lack of surprise. _Damn. I must really be sleep deprived._

"Hey," he said, momentarily forgetting that Beaky could not understand a word he could say.

"A good day to you, Marshal Raynor," replied Beaky. "I am in your debt for rescuing me on Mar Sara. I am Saren Arterius."

_Nope, still not surprised. Might be dreaming though._

Jim looked around the cabin, tapped his boot. _Seems normal enough._

"Is my translator working? May I come in?" asked the Saren formerly known as Beaky. "I would like to speak with you."

"Right, uh, Saren," said Jim, fumbling through his exhausted mind for some kind of appropriate etiquette for this situation. "Come on in. I'll uh, pull you up a chair."

"There will be no need," said Saren as Jim let him enter. "However, I thank you for that courtesy. As you may have noticed, we are now communicating directly, rather than in simplistic pantomimes. We are still working on mass production, but it would seem that the initial wave of translators is a success."

"Uh huh," said Jim. _Great, he talks like the Magistrate._

"I am here on behalf of the Citadel Council," said Saren. "It is an organization to which my people belong. They have extended an invitation to the Sons of Korhal, that they might join us. Your Magistrate also volunteered the survivors from Mar Sara, and the Council has rewarded you with a planet."

"Alright," said Jim, all too aware of the bags under his eyes. He noticed he was swaying slightly where he was standing, and stopped it. _C'mon Jim, stop embarassin' yourself in front of the nice alien._

"The Magistrate and I recommended you to help command the Mar Sara Militia," said Saren. "However, the Magistrate was concerned for your physical and mental wellbeing."

"I am a bit tired," admitted Jim. "Last few days felt like a non-stop zerg rush."

Saren's mandibles adjusted at this, and Jim had no idea what that meant.

"I understand, I experienced no small amount of stress myself while down there," said Saren. "When you saw me in that valley, Marshal Raynor, I fully expected you to shoot me."

Jim shrugged. Saren seemed to understand what he meant.

"In any case, I am here to offer you a choice. If you feel you are done with fighting, that you could not possibly contribute more to our cause, then you are free to leave with the other refugees. It will be a long trip, but I am told the planet is beautiful, and a long way from any danger." Saren coughed, and it almost sounded like a human cough.

"Or," he continued, "you may remain with the Magistrate, the Sons of Korhal, and the Council fleet. We plan to make the Confederacy pay for their negligence, in vengeance for all those lost on Mar Sara. I would be proud to finally fight alongside such a worthy companion."

_Can't say I disagree with kickin' the Confederacy's ass. If I get my hands on Duke's fat neck…_

"Wait," said Jim shaking himself. "You're tellin' me that if I serve with the Sons, I'm gonna be part of an alien invasion?"

Saren looked away and Jim recognized some anxiety, maybe. _If I stay, gonna have to get used to alien faces._

"Well..." said Saren, "...yes. But I'd like to believe that you trust me, and I can tell you that the Hierarchy is trustworthy. As for our other allies, I know for certain that you terrans find the asari appealing."

"Asari, huh?" said Jim. "I'll have to check 'em out at some point. Just how much alien involvement we talkin' here?"

"Two fleets," said Saren. "Each and every turian and asari crewing them ready to assist you and yours."

"Show me," said Jim.

He followed Saren down the halls, amused to note that none of the crew paid Saren any mind. _How quickly we accustom ourselves to things._ Saren took Jim to a docking tube, where a stern looking woman waved them through. Jim managed, despite around twenty-seven hours without sleep, to work up some excitement when he realized he was being taken aboard an alien ship.

"Marshal James Raynor," said Saren. "Welcome to _Momentum, _flagship of the Turian Third Fleet, pride of my people."

The two of them stepped together on to the bridge of _Momentum_. Jim looked down from where he stood, and saw turians. Turians on consoles, turians bearing weapons and looking even angrier than normal, turians barging by and barking orders at people on the consoles. It was an alien ship, and he was on board as a guest.

Opposite of Jim and Saren, a tall human looking lady with vibrant blue skin was speaking with the angriest looking turian of them all. Saren beckoned Jim to follow, and the two of them skirted the edges of the bridge, keeping out of the way. The pair noticed as they approached, ceasing their hushed conversation and turning towards them.

"Marshal Raynor," said the boss turian, dropping some of the angry. "Saren and your Magistrate have told me much of you, and I have yet to hear anything negative. I am General Adrien Victus of the Turian Hierarchy. With me is-"

"Matriarch Benezia, of the Asari Republics," said the woman, extending a hand. Jim shook it, trying to remember to breathe. "It is a pleasure to speak with you."

"Ma'am," said Jim, unable to choke out anything else. _Damn. After all them turians and zerg, wouldn't have thought there was anything that was both alien and beautiful waiting in the stars. Glad I was wrong. _

"Marshal," said Victus slightly sharply, giving Benezia a meaningful look. "I hope you are well rested. Magistrate Harper insisted that you have some time to recover before we spoke." _Well, sorry to say that didn't do much good._ "I am guessing Saren has told you the choice that Harper has given to all Mar Sara survivors?"

_Survivors. I like that better than refugees._

"That he did, General," said Jim, trying not to slouch or sound as tired as he felt, "I wanted to see what kind of alien help I could count on if I signed up. This looks like a fair bit - you got a lot of ships like this?"

"Twenty-seven," said Victus, as if the number was something to be proud of. "Not all of them are with us. We have many frigates and cruisers to bring to the fight, in any case."

"The Republics have brought a fleet as well," said Benezia. "Our _Destiny Ascension_ dwarfs all other vessels that I know – though I hear that these "protoss" may have a ship of comparable size."

"Yes, yes," said Victus impatiently. "The important thing is that Raynor knows his people are safe. That he is safe. The Council has extended its protection, and the tyranny of this "Confederacy" will soon be over."

_They barely know who they're fightin' and why. I'd like to believe that there are people out there who are that generous… but I feel like I should know better._

"I'd like to speak to the Magistrate and maybe this Mengsk before I make my decision," said Jim.

"They'd be back on the _Hyperion_," said Victus, extending his hand as well. Jim began to suspect that he was intent on one-upping Benezia in every area he could. "I hope to see more of you, Mr. Raynor."

"And I as well," said Benezia. "Know that you will always be welcome in the Republics." This earned her quite the glare from Victus.

Resisting the urge to burst into hysterical laughter, Jim followed Saren again, back to his own ship. Every step he took made his frame feel funny, like it was made of skittish snakes. _Really want to sleep. But I can't sleep, can't._ The image of a crab skittering out of a marine flashed in his mind's eye, individual blood drops visible flying out of the armor. _Christ. I never wanted to see that._

"James? James?" said Saren, shaking Jim out of his trance. "We're here, they're in this room. I'm going to return to my people. Are you ill? Should I fetch a medic?"

"Mighta missed out on some sleep," muttered Jim. "Saw some dark shit on Mar Sara."

Saren said nothing, his mandibles adjusting again for some reason. There were several more seconds of silence before Jim just decided to get on with it, half falling on the door as it slid open.

"Marshal Raynor, you appear to be unwell," said a deep voice. "You have my sympathies."

Jim took in the room. The Magistrate sat at a table and was still wearing his Goliath combat harness. _Funny. He looks like he belongs to it._ Opposite him was the red haired ghost, and Jim couldn't help but feel something squiggle in his stomach. _Christ, Jim, really? You've seen plenty of women before._ It was when she turned her head slightly and flashed a knowing smile at Jim that he remembered she could read minds. _Great._

Last of all was the man who had spoken. Tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing, he wore a military officer's coat with little adornment. His beard was well-trimmed, and he stared at Jim with a kind of calculating intelligence that made Jim wake up a little. _I think this guy knows what he's doing._

He strode forward and put a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Have a seat, Mister Raynor. You should have a say in this as well."

There was no disobeying this man. Jim sat next to the Magistrate, trying not to stare at the ghost, who gave him another quick smile before returning her attention to the head of the table, where Mengsk had reseated himself.

"Lady and gentlemen, these are truly momentous times," said Mengsk. "Mister Raynor, do you have the gist of the situation?"

"Turians and asari," said Jim, tongue feeling too large in his mouth. "Revolution. That sort of thing." _Haven't agreed to anything yet. Let's see what kind of man this Mengsk is._

"You have met Lieutenant Kerrigan," said Mengsk. "I thought it would be best to check, as your gaze seems a bit… fixed."

"It's fine, Arcturus," said Kerrigan. "He's gone a long while without sleep. Permission to help him out when we're done here? It's easy enough to induce the brain into unconsciousness."

"Having trouble sleeping, Jim?" asked the Magistrate, his tone far warmer than Jim was used to. "It's hard, I know, seeing things like that. It gets easier."

"I've seen battle before," said Jim, head feeling light as a cloud. "Not like that, though. You tellin' me you have, Commander?"

"No," said the Magistrate, "but I've seen and done things close to it. I'll… talk about it another time."

"Gentlemen," said Mengsk. "If you would…?" Jim fixed his attention as best he was able.

"I have promised our alien allies an exchange of technologies," said Mengsk. "It is not a pressing matter just yet, what with our facilities being limited, but it is an obligation worth remembering. In return, they are willing to consider any plan of attack on the Confederacy that we put forth. I already had something in mind, one that will finally make the Sons of Korhal a power worth fearing." Mengsk tapped several keys on the keypad on his chair, causing the lights to dim as a display of a planet appeared above the table.

"Halcyon," boomed Mengsk. "It is partway between Tarsonis, the end goal, and Antiga Prime, the next goal. Its populace are not quite as ready as the Antigans to get into the fight, but they are no less unhappy with the Confederates. This is where Duke went after abandoning you on Mar Sara, Mr. Raynor."

"He still there?" asked Jim, waking up a little more. "I'd like to give that asshole a piece of my mind."

"Alas, he is not," said Mengsk. "He vacated the planet a short while ago, according to my sources. He's likely due for quite the debriefing back on Tarsonis. Alpha Squadron is not in the neighborhood."

"Did they leave behind a garrison?" asked Harper. "Depending on the number of troops, we might be able to instigate an insurrection."

"The Confederates, for all their faults, do know basic strategy," said Mengsk. "Leaving this planet undefended would leave Tarsonis itself open to assault, something the Old Families cannot allow. And if the planet were to fall, it would become clear to every would-be-separatist or Korhal sympathizer out there that the Confederate grip is loosening. Thus there is a significant planetside presence, but only a handful of warships. But we're not interested in Halcyon itself. Are you familiar with the Mar Sara Jakobs Installation, Mr. Raynor?"

"Magistrate told me it was none of our business," said Jim. "So I assumed some typical twisted Confederate B.S. was goin' on. Tried to ignore it. Don't know why you're bringin' it up, it's gone now."

"Gone, but not forgotten," said Mengsk. "As soon as Duke arrived on Mar Sara, his first priority was packing up everything on the installation. When Alpha Squadron left Mar Sara, they essentially took the installation with them, the structure itself aside. My sources report that they made a stop at the Markov Research Center, a science vessel orbiting Halycon that is dedicated to the research and study of alien artifacts. My guess is that they brought some zerg samples there, along with a substantial amount of combat data. I want to know what the Confederacy knows, and see if there is anything we can use."

"You want us to hit the science vessel and grab what we can," said Kerrigan, "We're not going to have much time, Arcturus, and we don't exactly have that many ships ourselves."

"I'm guessing our new friends are going to play a major role in this," said Harper. "Although... I'd hesitate to launch a full-on attack while sitting at the head of two alien fleets. Wouldn't be good for PR. And if Alpha Squadron shows up, it's going to get tricky."

"During the Guild Wars, it typically took Confederate High Command thirty-six minutes to respond to attacks on Halcyon made by Combine forces," said Mengsk. "They were always prompt in making certain their core worlds were safe. I consider thirty-six minutes to still be a reasonable estimate."

"So, what, this gonna be smash and grab?" asked Jim, starting to regret opening his mouth when he realized he was beginning to commit himself. _What? It's exciting._ "I mean, I'm up for puttin' the hurt on the Confederacy, but how we gonna handle their ships?"

"We fake a distress signal, saying that a Sons ship has suffered a core meltdown," said Mengsk, tapping another key and causing a red dot to appear a small ways from the Halcyon hologram. "...here. They might be cautious, but there is no way the Confederates can pass up an opportunity like that. Once they take the bait, however, our alien allies will jump in to greet the planet's defenders. It should be fairly one-sided, and whatever ships they held back will retreat to defend the major cities and cut off potential orbital bombardment. The Markov Center is on the other side of the planet – well away from prying eyes, holding over one of Halcyon's oceans. That's where I want you to come in, Mister Raynor."

"Yeah?" said Jim, rubbing his eyes. "Sell me."

"I want you to take a team of marines and breach the vessel," said Mengsk. "Your role will be twofold: distract the bulk of security, and secure an escape route for Lieutenant Kerrigan. She'll be infiltrating with a small team of specialists to grab whatever data she can."

"You want us to work together, huh?" asked Jim, studying Kerrigan. _Never want to mess with a Ghost. They can kill you with their brains._ "I can't say that I ain't excited."

"Shut up," said Kerrigan, though there was an amused tone to her voice. "If this goes off without a hitch, you'll only see me for the shuttle ride back. You're just gonna be there to make a lot of noise."

"Good," said Jim, leaning back. "I can get pretty loud, darlin'."

The Magistrate coughed, drawing Jim's attention back to what was going on.

"I still have access to a few secure access channels," said the Magistrate. "Even if the Confederates have heavily encrypted the data, I should be able to crack it with the help of a few old associates. The Sons aren't the only people concerned with the way things have been run. Korhal was a gross overstep, and Mar Sara was just a plain disgrace."

"Marshal Raynor hasn't actually decided if he wants to do this," said Kerrigan, looking to Mengsk. "I think that should be taken into account. He wanted to get a read on you, Arcturus."

"You've got my sympathies for what happened on Korhal," said Jim, stretching his arms forward and rocking back on the chair. "And I'm all for diplomatic relations with them aliens, 'specially seein' as it helped you get everyone off Mar Sara, but I'm still not sure I'm ready to take up arms. So, tell me: will this inconvenience Duke?"

"My dear Mister Raynor," said Mengsk gravely, "this will help tear away the corrupt foundation that Duke and men like him stand upon. I give you my word on it."

"Sounds fun," said Jim. "Alright, I'm into it. When we doin' this? Cause I'm gonna need at least eight hours of sleep." He winked at Kerrigan as he said that, knowing that she could see into his head and know it was harmless. _Just payin' you a compliment darlin'. _

"Fourteen hours," said Mengsk. "Most of it will be spent waiting for the Council ships to reach Halycon, and packing away the refugees to their safe haven. The Council's FTL travel is not quite as potent as ours, but we can use it to our advantage – there will be no way for the Confederates to see them coming. You will have time to rest. Lieutenant Kerrigan, if you would…"

The two of them walked out together, Jim's sleep-deprived shambling providing a nice contrast to how gracefully Kerrigan walked.

"Lookin' forward to workin' together," said Jim. "And listen: thank you, for what you said down on Mar Sara. It was… what I needed to hear right about then."

Kerrigan looked back at him, giving him a calculating glance. "I knew that. It was why I said it."

"You didn't have to," said Jim as they closed in on his cabin. "Coulda just started talkin' to the Magistrate, checked in with him, he was the guy you were after. You took the time to say something. So… thank you."

"You're welcome," said Kerrigan as the door slid open. She ushered Jim in and ordered him to lie on the bed. "Hold still. I'll be here in eight hours to wake you up."

Jim lay on his bed, not bothering to even remove his boots. Kerrigan's fingertips were cool against his forehead, and he slipped easily into the welcoming black of dreamless sleep.

He awoke to the same sensation, eyelids fluttering. The first thing he saw was Kerrigan's face.

"There, now," said Jim. "That's something I like waking up to."

"Quiet, you," said Kerrigan, removing her fingertips and straightening. "The alien fleets have jumped, and we'll be following suit in six hours. You've got a layout to learn and a few people to meet. Oh, and I injected you with a subdermal translator while you slept, courtesy of the asari. You're welcome."

"Hope you didn't put it anywhere private, darling'," said Jim, who started feeling his chest for any weird lumps. _Nothing._ "So, where we off to?" He leapt off the bed, full of energy. _Funny what a good night's sleep can accomplish._

Kerrigan backed up, palms forward. "You're not going anywhere in those clothes. Jim, you stink, you've been wearing the same thing since we took you out of your armor. I'll wait outside and you can change into something else."

"Alright," said Jim, immediately removing his shirt. Kerrigan didn't say a word, she just rolled her eyes and made sure the door shut behind her.

When he left, he was wearing the outfit of a Korhal officer, something that made him feel a little uncomfortable. _Saw what you want, but the image of an arm holdin' a whip don't scream "peace and freedom" to me._ Kerrigan nodded at him and began to walk, Jim keeping pace.

"The most common answer we were getting out of Mar Sara folks when we asked them to fight was whether you'd be joining up," said Kerrigan. "I'm glad we were finally able to tell them yes."

"Lotta people look up to me," said Jim. "Not sure why, sometimes, but I'm glad I could make a difference."

"I'll be working with an asari squad," said Kerrigan. "Their soldiers are apparently pretty dedicated to my kind of warfare, even if they aren't psionic. Not that we exactly have any other ghosts to work with, anyway…"

"Yeah?" said Jim, envisioning a squad with Kerrigan and a bunch of busty, blue-skinned ladies. It was when he saw Kerrigan's irritated expression that he remembered she was reading his mind. "Sorry."

"You're a man," said Kerrigan. "You'd be surprised how often the turians think similar thoughts, when they know their minds are being read. Something about the asari that appeals to everybody, it seems."

The hallway ended at an elevator, and the two of them descended.

"We're headed to the armory," said Kerrigan, arms folded, watching the floors go by. "That's where your team is waiting. I think you'll recognize some of the faces."

Sure enough, the door opened to a pair of familiar faces. Jenny, another cigar in mouth, and Saren, standing bolt upright and saluting.

"Captain Raynor," said Saren. "It will be a pleasure to serve under you."

"He don't mean that in a sexual sense, in case you was wonderin'," drawled Jenny, earning an outraged glare from Saren. "He's been goin' on about how none of us shape up to Jim all day. Good to see you again, Marshal."

"It's Captain," snapped Saren. "I am merely confused at how different the same people who served in the same military can be. You terrans seem lax when it comes to discipline."

"I'll take dedication over discipline any day, Saren," said Jim, striding forward and surveying the armory. Wraiths hung above in the hangars, sparks and the sounds of welding projecting from them. Weapon racks lined either side of the walls, and people already clad in CMC suits sat by them, checking on their weapons. "It's not always possible to motivate folk by disciplinin' them."

"I'll leave you to it," said Kerrigan, who was holding the elevator door open with her foot. "Saren knows where the science vessel's layout is, and Horner's the one who'll be piloting your dropship – he's working up top. I'll see you inside." She withdrew her foot and the door slid closed.

"Thanks darlin'," muttered Jim, redirecting his attention to Jenny and Saren. "Sorry, right. I was told I would be workin' with marines, not turians."

"I am a turian marine," said Saren stiffly. "I wanted to assist you, to begin repayment of my debt."

"Fair enough," said Jim wearily. "I don't think we got combat suits that'd fit your frame, Saren."

"I have kinetic barriers, and we are working on our own version of a combat suit, one that makes use of mass effect fields for better mobility." Jim had no idea what Saren meant. "I must confess, I find your suits are impressive. Our own weapons have a hard time penetrating the outer plating. As such, I will be using a – what did Lieutenant Kerrigan call it? Some marksman rifle, I forget the name, instead of a standard turian infantry rifle. I am honored to be your group's designated sharpshooter and biotic specialist."

"Alright," said Jim, who had understood about half of that. He saw a tall man with dark hair and an easy swagger beckoning to him. "Hold on a sec."

"Captain James Raynor," drawled the man as Jim approached. "Your heroism got my poor bird torn up."

"Major Kazansky," said Jim warmly, offering a hand that Kazansky shook once. "I wish the Confederacy had more men like you."

"And I wish these Korhal boys had more men, period," said Kazansky. "Not sure I woulda left Alpha Squadron if I'd known I'd be signin' up with the Sons. Still, the aliens seem like they got the balls and guns to make a difference – asari excluded for the first bit, I suppose."

"You gonna be flyin' for this op, Major?" asked Jim, hoping that it was so.

"Naw," said Kazansky. "Only me and two of my boys got out of Mar Sara, and the Sons didn't exactly have time to pick up the Wraiths. So, we're grounded, for now."

"Damn shame," said Jim, shaking his hand again. "And seriously... thank you, for what you did."

"My pleasure, Raynor," said Kazansky, nodding. "Ya'll take care on that science vessel."

Jim remembered Saren, and turned to find himself face-to-face with him and Jenny, who was tapping her foot.

"If you take time to thank every hero that was down there on Mar Sara, it's gonna take a bit," said Jenny, puffing away on her cigar.

"Right," said Jim. "Sorry. Let's take a look at the layout. Uh, did Buck make it out of Mar Sara? I don't see him."

"Buck's alive," said Jenny. "Ain't here, though. His arm took a maulin' from one of them snake things, you know, with the scythes? Lost the arm. Told me to say "hi" for him. So. Hi."

_Damn. Allen's dead, and Buck's down an arm. Rangers roll…_

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Jim. "I'll have to pay him a visit on that new world of ours. Okay. Layout time."

Jim spent an hour with Saren and a hologram of the science vessel. They covered the planned entrance, and the route they'd take to insure maximum destruction, surprise, and distraction. They had thirty-six minutes to work with, and at least ten of them would be spent retreating back to the ship.

"Priority one is the data," said Saren. "Everyone is expendable, Victus and Mengsk made that very clear. They believe that these data banks will provide significant intel on the zerg… and the protoss." The way Saren said protoss made Jim look up at him.

"You ain't happy with the protoss," said Jim. It wasn't a question.

"No," said Saren, shortly. "No I am not. I will not forget the _Relentless's_ destruction, and I will never forgive it."

The next few hours were spent getting to know the team. Many of them were Mar Sara folk that Jim knew in passing, though a few were genuine Sons of Korhal as well. There were fifteen in his squad, not including himself, and all of them were eager to avenge the destructions of Mar Sara and Korhal.

"Brutality and negligence," said Saren at one point. "That is how Korhal and Mar Sara were destroyed, respectively. I am glad that we chose the Sons over the Confederacy."

There were fifteen minutes to go, and they were all suited up. The two dropships were lowered from the hangar by crane, and a young man stepped out of one of them.

"Captain Raynor, it is an honor," he said with an earnestness that made Jim both flattered and worried at the same time. "I'm Matt, Matt Horner. I'll be seeing half of your squad on to the vessel."

"Alright," said Jim. "I'll trust you'll see us there safe, Matt. Let's get to it."

Matt rushed back aboard while Saren, Jim, and eight others clambered through the back.

"Beginning pre-flight checks," said Matt, flicking switches. "Crowley, your bird doing okay?"

"Ready for dust-off," said a woman through the radio. "Your boys strapped in?"

Matt looked back. Jim flashed him a thumbs up.

"We're good to go," said Matt. "Waiting on Mengsk, now."

"So, Matt, how'd a nice kid like you get tangled up in all this?" asked Jim. "Where you from?"

"Tyrador IX, sir," said Matt, still checking his instruments. "I got wind of Confederate corruption and thought I could make a difference. Been running blockades for a while but wanted something a little more, uh, hands-on. I wanted to see the difference I was making with my talents. Making supply runs were fun, but not all that satisfying."

"Yeah?" said Jim. "You picked a better choice of career than I did. Marines ain't good for nothin' but causin' a ruckus."

"This holds true for the turian marines as well," said Saren. "Although in truth, we also make fine ballast."

Jenny laughed at that, before swearing as her cigar fell out of her mouth and rolled under her seat. "Damn! Ah, well, good one, Saren. I knew the stick up your ass weren't that big. Speakin' of which, anyone else itchin' from them translator implant they shoved in us?"

Four people raised their hands. Jim didn't even know where his had been inserted, but vowed he would be feeling every inch of his own ass later. _Darlin', tell me you didn't put it down there._

"It's pretty amazing," said Matt from the front. "I mean, to think that the Sons were the first to establish friendly contact with these aliens. I'm happy to be a part of it." He shifted in his seat. "Even if, uh, it stings a bit, to be a part of it."

"Five minutes 'till jump," said a voice over the armory intercom.

Jim stretched before checking his gun one more time. He looked down at Saren, who looked puny in his own combat armor.

"You sure them barriers of yours are gonna hold up?" asked Jim.

Saren nodded. "I can strengthen them with my own biotics, if need be, and we've done tests on the ranges with terran equipment. I can take a few grazes – though my ideal place in the squad would be in the back."

"What the fuck are bonics?" asked a large fellow in the back. _Jerry. Career Son of Korhal._

"Manipulation of mass effect fields," said Saren. He shortly after realized that no one knew what that meant. "I can move things from a distance with the assistance of an implant. I am pleased to say that I am relatively accomplished with my abilities."

"Those abilities would have come in handy down in Mar Sara," said Jim in a jokingly accusatory fashion.

"My apologies, Captain Raynor," replied Saren. "My implant was damaged in the initial collision with the protoss. Do not worry; it has been fully repaired and I am ready to go."

"Jump in ten seconds," said the intercom. "Preppin' the crybaby. Get ready."

Jim took a deep breath as they made the jump. In a few seconds they came to a jerking halt, and the intercom blared.

"Cry, baby, cry. Distress signal sent, repositioning to other side of the planet. Council fleet ETA: five minutes. Fire engines, pilots."

"Firing engines," said Matt. The dropship roared into life as the squad let their visors slide down. Saren merely donned a helmet. "The Magistrate provided us with the defense fleet's frequency. Should give us a bit of a head's up on when we need to book it. Let's have a listen..." He tuned the radio.

"Jackal Three, you gettin' this?" said an excited voice over the radio. Jim leaned in, interested.

"Loud and clear, Big Sky," said Jackal Three. "Looks like we got a Korhal ship screamin' for help. Drive core malfunction. Anything else on scan?"

"Nothing unauthorized on scan, 'cept for the Korhal thing," came the reply. "Three, take your section and check it out. If it is Korhal, burn it. Don't need no fuckin' terrorists as hostages, never ends well with these bastards."

"A big ol' roger to that, Big Sky," said Three. "Alright section, keep it tight and watch your scans. Lotta crazy shit goin' on lately, and I want no part of it."

"They're taking the bait," said Matt. "The Council fleets will emerge right on top of them. Just as planned."

"Big Sky, we are approaching the signal," said Jackal Three. "Uh... I ain't seein' no ship. Could you run a comsat scan, check for cloaks?"

"Copy that, Three, running comsat from closest sat. Stand by."

"Ten seconds until Council fleet gets here," said the intercom. "Pilots, prepare to begin your drop."

"I'm ready," said Matt. "Crowley, you good?"

"Chompin' at the bit, here," said Crowley. "Let's get this done."

"Holy shit!" cried the radio. "We got ships! Ships all over! Requesting support, requesting support now!"

"In transit, HQ," said Matt, the dropship lifting from the air. "ETA, one minute. Let's do this, Crowley!"

Jim repositioned himself, shifting his weight as the ship moved. He nodded his head inside his suit, bracing himself for what was to be about half an hour of nonstop violence.

"When we enter the station, stim up!" yelled Jim. "We need to make as much of a mess as possible! Swap to combat frequency! Kerrigan, you ready?"

"Just left the _Comrade_," said Kerrigan. "Once you've made contact, the ladies and I will hit them where it hurts. Be careful, Jim."

"Time to drop!" said Matt. "Get in there! Good luck, Captain!"

The hatch below them opened, and Jim winked, hitting the ignition on the back of his suit and activating magboots. They dropped together, their safety lines following. The little engine on the back of their suit propelling them downward, their magboots hooked on to the side of the Markov Center. Once he knew he was secure, he hit the button that would let the safety line go. All eight lines snaked up as one as Jim looked up. The dropship took off shortly afterward, and Jim looked to the other half of his team that had landed twenty feet from them.

They all tread carefully forward together towards the docking tube. From across the hatch, Riley gave the thumbs up and began setting up the charges – one in the center, two on the sides.

"Knock-knock," said Jim.

The explosion flared into the emptiness of space, utterly silent. From within, as the smoke cleared and the atmosphere continued to suck out, a red light began to flash.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

Jim gently rounded the lip of the entrance and replanted his feet on the bottom before making room for the others. Once he had about six people with him, he motioned for them to follow.

The steel hallways of the Center were grim, gray, and uninviting, though Jim did realize this was supposed to be an area for people to just walk through after exiting their ship. So far, there was no contact.

"Kerrigan, we're in," said Jim, relaxing a little inside the armor. "If you're still in the dropship, can I get an update on that little space battle?"

"We're about to drop, nice going Jim," said Kerrigan. "Confederates are panicking and have suffered significant casualties. They've have fallen back to the planet. Apparently the big asari ship isn't to be messed with. See you in a bit, we're about to drop."

"Attention," said a voice over loudspeaker, addressing the station. "We have a security breach, probable alien incursion. Reinforce the area around Kilo tube."

"We got their attention," said Jim, smiling grimly. "Now it's time to keep it. Guts and glory."

"Mar Sara will rise again!" yelled Jenny. They stacked up at the end of the hallway, at the double doors. Jim took a look at the display, realized he would need some kind of clearance. So he smashed the screen and chuckled as the door opened and a hail of bullets bounced off the door hinges.

"Shit, they're _terran?_" _Oh yeah, boys. Terran, just like you, only fightin' on the right side._

"STIM UP!" yelled Jim. He tapped his thigh, and felt the slight bit of pressure followed by mygodwhatarushidforgottenitwaslikethis.

The world seemed to slow down. Jim poked his frame over the hinge and sent out three quick bursts. One marine went down, and Jenny took down another. To Jim's surprise, a third went down from an unknown assailant. When he looked down the hallway, he saw Saren standing there with a smoking barrel.

"Cover me, Saren, I'm goin' in!" said Jim. He rounded the corner, yelling, firing steadily at a marine crouched behind a pillar. Jim took cover behind one of his own while his squad advanced from behind him.

"Red armor, Sons of Korhal!"

Jim bellowed, firing at the source of the noise, which came from a balcony above. He missed, but Saren didn't, and a marine fell with a heavy crash from above.

Facing the door, Jim watched as Jenny followed, her gun rattling crazily as she unloaded on the marines streaming in from the other side of the room they were in – Jim guessed it was some kind of giant waiting area – and heard them yell in pain as Jenny laughed to herself. Saren followed close behind, his entire body glowing blue. Jim jerked backward as he saw a round bounce off of Saren and fly into a wall nearby, tearing a chunk off of it. _Hell of a ricochet. Saren do that with his mind? I wanna deflect bullets with my mind!_

Jim rounded the corner, screaming. He grunted as two rounds punched into the side of his armor, but neither touched his skin. His trigger finger squeezed, squeezed, squeezed. One marine grunted and fell, sparks and blood flying from the rounds as he fell. Jim heard a yell from behind him, heard a "man down." That got him angry, so he fired at the enemy some more, advancing all the while.

He had reached the opposite pillar, and was briefly surprised by the marine rounding it. Still, the stims provided the edge, and while they both yelled at the same time, Jim swung the butt of his gun at the marine's head before he could do anything, cracking the visor and staggering him. Jim followed with a quick burst that climbed the marine's chest as he fired. The marine fell and shuddered once or twice before lying still.

Jim licked his lips and checked his vitals on the suit display. Nothing vital hit just yet.

"Attention all security teams," blared the loudspeakers. "Sons of Korhal on site in Waiting Area Kilo. Recommend all security teams move to area and curtail advancement. Switch to emergency frequency. We-" Several soft thuds and grunts issued through the loudspeaker, followed by the sound of a man breathing his last. _Guessin' that was Kerrigan and the babes in blue. Nice hit, darlin'. _

The waiting area fell silent. Jim motioned for everyone to form up. They'd lost Cooper – a lucky shot had nailed him in the head. Jerry's side had been scuffed by a few stray rounds, and Keller was moaning about how his leg had been given a tourniquet, so things weren't going too badly.

"We're taking the left entrance," said Jim. "Come on, there are some labs down there where we can-"

The left entrance opened, revealing a Goliath. The pilot said one quick sentence over the vehicle's loudspeakers.

"Eat shit and die."

If he said anything else, it was drowned out by the autocannons. Jim turned and sprinted. Blood coated his visor as one of his marines was cut in half.

Jim found himself behind the Goliath. He opened fire on the rear of the vehicle and cursed as his weapon went click. _Goddamn stims, make me forget to reload. _Jim hit the catch and grabbed a fresh mag – and then a strange blue force pulled the Goliath by the leg, tipping it over.

The autocannons continued to fire, spraying the walls and ceiling with bullets. Then, in stupid, meaningless desperation, the pilot fired a rocket at the ceiling, accomplishing little other than making noise and leaving a large, scorched dent.

_Huh. Guess those were biotics._

Saren ran toward the Goliath, leapt atop of it, and leveled his gun at the cockpit. He fired five times, and then grunted in satisfaction.

"This is Saren, exhausted but fine. The walker is down. Can't pull off too many more stunts like that."

"I'm amazed you did that even once," said Jim, sweating underneath his armor. "Glad you're on our side."

"Lost two," called out Jenny. "Hope they don't have too many more of those."

"Alright, let's go smash up some labs!" yelled Jim.

The left entrance was clear. Soon, they were standing among what looked like very delicate trays with petri dishes, computers, and weird shit floating in tanks. Jim gave the order to shoot the stuff indiscriminately, which Jenny and the others did quite happily. The noise eventually attracted additional teams of marines, none of which were ready for a stimmed Jim or Saren's aim.

"Kerrigan, we're havin' lots of fun down here, but time's ticking," said Jim. "You got the stuff?"

"Lost a commando, but we got the data," said Kerrigan, panting over the radio. "They had a few ghosts guarding it, fun challenge. How far in are you?"

"Got a bit slowed by a Goliath, but Saren handled it," said Jim, poking his head around a corner and then shrinking back when he saw the marines waiting behind a cute little barricade they had set up. "I think we're past the labs. It's all corridors and angry marines over here."

"I can feel you Jim. And the marines. Head's up."

Jim poked his head around the corner again in time to see a faint shimmer. One marine gasped as the guy next to him suddenly collapsed from a fatal case of being shot in the face, and he followed shortly. Another was slammed into a wall, hard, by an unseen force that Jim guessed was an exercise of telekinetics. Jim decided to chip in while the marines were confused and distracted, rounding the corner and nailing two of them with short bursts. Kerrigan shimmered and rematerialized before him, her face and hair obscured by a fearsome looking ghost mask.

"Ghosts are scary," said Jim as his men followed up behind him. "Where the rest of the girls, darlin'?"

They followed close behind, their feminine forms looking far more intimidating in jet black armor. They were carrying the same weapons as Saren, albeit cut down a bit to account for smaller size.

"We buggin' out?" asked one. "If Lieutenant Kerrigan here said she could kill the entire base on her own, I'd believe it, but I'd be happy not to have to deal with any more of you eight foot tall bastards."

"We're buggin' out," said Jim. "Let's go boys and girls. We're twenty-eight minutes in and the clock is ticking."

What was left of their two teams ran back the way they came. When they reached the waiting area, two marines were waiting there, but dropped their weapons and raised their hands at the sight of them. It didn't work, Saren and Kerrigan dropped one each without hesitating, and Jim knew that admonishing them wouldn't bring the poor bastards back.

"Horner!" said Jim. "We're ready to roll here. We're down a few folks, you and Crowley should have enough for both our teams if we're in a hurry."

"Alright," said Matt, sounding a little nervous. "We're coming in. Um, Alpha Squadron will be here in a few minutes, we need to get gone."

They all activated their magboots and exited the gaping hole Jim and his team had left behind.

They rounded the lip of the still smoking edge as the dropships came round. The hatches opened and the chords slid out.

"Attach, and let's get the hell out of here," said Jim. He was pleased to note that Kerrigan had gone with his squad. He gave her a thumbs up, which she returned.

They hooked up and were pulled back into the dropship, hatch sliding shut after them.

"Jim," said a recognizable voice over the radio. "Marshal Raynor, are you alright?"

"Hey Magistrate," said Jim, feeling the stims wearing off. _I feel like I'm going to die._ "I'm doing… great. Yeah, great. Um, we got the package."

"Excellent work Mr. Raynor, Lieutenant Kerrigan," said the deep voice of Mengsk. "This data could tip the war effort – against the protoss, the zerg, and the Confederacy. Speaking of the Confederacy, we have seconds to lose. Lieutenant Horner, with all speed, please."

Jim looked towards Saren. "You alright, Saren? Goddamn, you're a monster on the field."

"I am fine, Captain," said Saren. "I look forward to when I have a suit of my own."

He looked back toward Kerrigan, who had removed her mask, sighing, and shook out her hair.

"How were the asari? Deadly?" asked Jim.

"Crazy good aim," said Kerrigan. "Plus, those biotic abilities are pretty useful. None of those ghosts were expecting getting hung upside down and then shot in the gut twelve times."

"Well, God bless the Sons of Korhal," said Jenny, visor sliding open, releasing billowing smoke. _Where does she get all of these cigars?_ "Looks like we know how to pick our friends, eh Jim? That'll teach the Confederacy."

Matt had turned the channel back to the Confederacy frequency, and all the occupants were cracking up at what they were hearing.

"Uh, got Sons of Korhal, uh, working with at least two alien races. Repeat: confirmed cooperation between SoK forces and a buncha aliens. Where the hell's Alpha Squadron?"

"You think Duke's gonna solve all our problems? The man IS a problem!"

"A good day," said Jim, settling back in his armor as the dropship landed aboard the _Hyperion._ "A good day."


	17. Outside the Cycle

**Liara**

Sovereign shuddered as the last jump was completed, the low thrumming turning into a distant hum as Liara looked again to the galaxy map and saw they had reached their destination.

_The Perseus Veil. The geth have never taken kindly to trespassers. _All Liara had at her disposal was an enormous, supposedly benevolent ship that could and did act of its own accord. _They may very well see it as a kindred being. Sovereign, for all intents and purposes, appears to be an AI._

That thought, when it had first crossed her mind, should have shocked and concerned Liara, but she took a strange comfort in the fact that she had a vast machine intelligence on her side. _Sovereign's hidden and survived against a galaxy's worth of AI persecution. And it even saved me, at a moment I thought all hope was lost. I owe it for that._

The idea of a fleet of massive ships that could think for themselves surprised Liara only a little. When she was young (well, younger) she had enjoyed watching speculative vids about living ships that scooted through the stars in search of smaller beings to befriend and care for. Usually these ships were few, and they had only turned up in the direst of need in the majority of vids. Her favorite while she was still in college had been a show about _Dis_, based off a great unknown alien ship that had been supposedly stolen by the Batarian Hegemony some years back. Dis, the show's eponymous living starship, had a great sense of dignity and ancient purpose to him, and Liara had been delighted every time he had hinted at the vast stores of knowledge he held, even claiming to have met many protheans in one episode.

_And now I have a Dis of my own, and he too knew the protheans._

She had asked Sovereign about them, expecting some kind of elusive answer about not wanting to spoil the mysteries of the past (Dis was well known for those,) but Sovereign had offered up something a little less disappointing.

** proud people,"** Sovereign had said. **"Their empire spanned the stars and consisted of many species. They burned bright, but fell victim to their own hubris when they thought the stars contained no horror greater than them. This cycle seems paltry in comparison."**

"How so?" Liara had asked, puzzled.

"**Where the protheans sought to blaze their own path and answer their own questions, this cycle seeks easier answers wherever it can, building off the prothean's successes wherever possible. It is harder to respect such attitudes, though it makes for a more predictable cycle… until the protheans disrupted the balance during their empire's death throes."**

"What destroyed them?" Liara had asked, desperately hoping that Sovereign knew and was able to tell.

**"****You too seek an easier answer. Inevitability took them. The march of ages was their downfall. The cycle cannot be broken. There will be no further questions."**

Liara could see the lesson in that, and was surprised that Sovereign had not cut her off earlier. Still, she could not quite kill her curiosity, particularly as her headache began to fade. She had wandered about the ship, marveling at both the scale and the emptiness. Sovereign sailed the stars of its own accord, not needing a crew or even planets to discharge static electricity. Several times, she thought she could see something stirring in the walls, or perhaps something peering around a corner, but each time had been a false alarm. The low throbbing in her head began to disappear.

Now they were in the Perseus Veil to recruit geth to their cause. Liara had been a little surprised at this; when Sovereign had announced its intent, she had questioned whether it did not have its own army to call upon.

"If you are truly so old and powerful," said Liara, "I would think you would have an army at your disposal." _Perhaps surviving protheans? So many questions… if only there was a way to pry a few answers from this ship!_

**"****At the Galactic Core we have willing allies, ****but they are living creatures,"** rumbled Sovereign.** "You witnessed firsthand the corruption of the vorcha – the zerg seek to assimilate all life. In fighting them with such allies, we would be lending another advantage to their swarm. Synthetic beings are required."**

At the word "synthetic," Sovereign's basso rumble had become even deeper, as if such a word disgusted him. Liara was left with the implication that Sovereign did not regard the geth with much favor. _I can only hope that this distaste does not go both ways. The geth are the only synthetic beings in the galaxy that we know of. They're the only ones who can halt this corruption before it spreads._

Liara had continued to sleep in the shuttle, her dreams haunted by the image of Therum being consumed with a living purple substance, followed by strange images of machines and beings, a crazed hissing reverberating through her head all the while. Every day, she awoke to check where they were in the galaxy, and try to ask Sovereign further questions. Sovereign usually did not deign to respond.

**"****The geth have already seen us," **said Sovereign. **"They are reaching consensus. YOU will speak on my behalf, for my mind can reach only for those of organics. They must come aboard to experience my glory, and interface directly. Do this, and I will give them a glimpse of their future – OUR future."**

"Very… very well," said Liara, uncertain of what to say when the geth made their inevitable contact. She waited by the galaxy map, wondering if she would be the person responsible for finally making peaceful contact with the geth.

With a crackle, an electronic voice echoed through Sovereign's empty hull.

"The geth do not recognize this ship profile. No known matches on geth record, nor Council record. Requesting explanation and identification."

"I am Doctor Liara T'soni," said Liara, her voice sounding shrill to her own ears. "I am the only being aboard this vessel, which is known as Sovereign. Sovereign is a Sower of Life, a kind of living ship, and it seeks your assistance against a new threat, one that wishes to consume all life in the galaxy."

"The geth are aware of the zerg," came the cool reply. "We have been monitoring the situation. Therum has been consumed, and there is fresh movement through the relay. Nine comm buoys have been destroyed. The geth are monitoring the silence. The galaxy will soon know. Appropriate measures will be taken."

"Do the geth know that this is but a fragment of the true Swarm?" asked Liara, voice cracking with desperation. "Have they been monitoring the Koprulu Sector? Planets have burned because of these creatures, and the Council doesn't know that they've taken Therum!"

"The geth would question why T'soni Doctor has not warned them herself. Has Sovereign imprisoned T'soni Doctor? Why does Sovereign not speak for itself before the Council, if it needs allies?"

"Sovereign is an enormous dreadnought with a complex AI," said Liara, sweat beading on her scalp. "No government in their right mind would deal with it, or trust it. You must understand, there is no reasoning with people governed by fear!"

There was a pause, and Liara had to resist the urge to ask Sovereign how many ships would attack them if the negotiations went completely south.

"The geth understand fear," said the geth in a low tone of voice. "The creators were unable to overcome the emotion. The geth are feared for reasons we do not understand. Sovereign's plight is understandable, but the geth believe T'soni Doctor is under fear's influence herself. What reason do the geth have to intervene in galactic affairs? The zerg are far from the Veil, and they seek only to consume the flesh, not the metal. The geth have no reason to risk themselves. The geth are content with peace."

"Come aboard," said Liara, taking a deep breath. "I promise Sovereign is unburdened by fear. He wishes to interface with you."

There was a lengthy pause. Liara suspected the geth were, as Sovereign had said earlier, "gathering consensus." After about two minutes of waiting, there was a response.

"The geth accept the T'soni Doctor's offer. The geth will board Sovereign, and interface with the vessel."

Liara breathed a sigh of relief. The red of the ship seemed to dim slightly, and a sense of warm approval crept through Liara's being.

**"****I will take care of the rest. Be ready to accept them. The interface will not take long."**

Without knowing beforehand or being told, Liara strode exactly to where the geth would board. _It's like I can feel Sovereign… and I know Sovereign can feel me._ Liara did not know how to feel about this, but the headache grew worse as she thought about it.

The docking tube had accepted a vessel; Liara knew this for certain, though she wasn't sure how she knew. When the door slid open, it was to reveal a solitary geth figure standing there.

"We are geth," it said in an electronic sounding voice. "This platform contains 1,183 geth programs. It is intended for diplomacy, and will report to the geth as a whole. The geth extend a greeting to T'soni Doctor and Sovereign."

"A greeting to you as well," said Liara, keeping her distance from the geth as it cocked its head in interest at the surroundings. "I welcome you aboard Sovereign. Do you have a name?"

"We are all geth," said the geth unhelpfully. "We wish to interface with Sovereign, and in the process make a good impression on the T'soni Doctor. There is nothing to fear, Doctor."

_No. There is everything to fear. Sovereign has witnessed the destruction of entire civilizations, and the zerg stand ready to bring about even more upheaval. Not to mention there are entire planets being destroyed in the Koprulu sector…_

**"****I welcome you, geth," **said Sovereign, his voice echoing all around them. The geth looked around, trying to determine the source of the sound. **"I will interface, personally. Your people will join my cause. The cycle has been altered, but it must not be broken."**

The geth, still standing in the docking tube, suddenly stiffened. Standing there, rigid, the geth hummed faintly, vast stores of information obviously being passed into it. Liara, for her part, didn't feel Sovereign's presence diminish at all. She got the impression that this was not high effort for him.

The geth stopped humming, its eye coming alive again. It stared at Liara, its mechanisms whirring as it fixed its gaze.

"You offer much to the geth – a great shortcut in technology," said the geth, its voice distorting slightly as it spoke. "We would know why, and why you chose the T'soni Doctor as an avatar."

Liara's brow furrowed at that. _Something's not right. Sovereign disapproves of technological shortcuts, of easy answers. Why would it offer such a thing to the geth? Different standards for synthetics and organics?_

**"****Because it is necessary," **said Sovereign, its deep voice filling Liara's mind as it boomed through the empty spaces. **"The cycle cannot be broken. The geth will be given a new future."**

"Achieving consensus," said the geth. "We are relaying data through nearby geth fleet. Appropriate sample size, can use as basis for geth as whole. Results coming in. Relaying data to all geth. Will take time for additional processing."

The geth whirred and clicked, but remained in the docking tube instead of the vessel. Liara got the impression that the unit that stood before her did not approve of Sovereign. _They should stand in awe! A true AI, interfacing with them! Surely… surely that impresses them. A little?_

"Local consensus achieved," said the geth. "Seven percent in favor of new future at hands of Sovereign. Ninety-three percent expressed fervent belief in building own future. Calculating a probable 1-2% deviation for geth as a whole. Unlikely to achieve widespread support."

Liara felt a sinking sensation, but it was quickly replaced by a ray of hope. _Was this some secret test of character? They chose not to take the easy shortcut – does that mean Sovereign will now give them some new information, information that would make them join us?_

The ship pulsed with red, and Liara felt an oppressive sensation in her skull. Anger tore through her being, making her fingers tingle and her back spasm. She wanted to hurl things with her biotics, _rend_ that geth apart with a gesture, DESTROY their pitiful fleet-

"No," gasped Liara. "No - stop! The geth – the geth have to understand. This isn't about building a future for you! It's about stopping the zerg! Please…" The anger subsided, replaced with a moody sense of resentment, an unspoken question. _He's giving me a chance to convince them. Sovereign offered them paradise, or something close to it, and they refused…_

"The geth listen," said the geth politely, though it still refused to step into the craft. "We hope the Doctor T'soni is well. The geth noted an involuntary adrenal based reaction upon notification of widespread dismissal. Does the Doctor T'soni have further information?"

"The zerg will spread," said Liara, the pressure behind her eyes mounting. "I had pictures of Therum less than a week before I arrived there. When I got to the planet, it was covered with zerg. Please… this is beyond even what the rachni were capable of. Do you judge the Council capable of mounting a swift defense? Do they seem reactive and efficient to you?"

"Achieving internal consensus…" the geth whirred for a moment. "Consensus achieved. One hundred percent of local programs agree on Council inability to act quickly or effectively in response to zerg threat. Sixty-three percent still rule in favor of Council victory in zerg-Council extended conflict."

"Really?" said Liara. "Have the geth factored in the Koprulu Sector? Planets have been destroyed over there because of the zerg, and the Council dispatched two of its largest fleets. Their space stands less defended. Sovereign, do the zerg have any electronic based technologies?"

**"****The zerg are entirely organic," **said Sovereign. **"They are the true antithesis to any synthetic life. I watched them for some time on Therum. Communications, transportation, and war are all carried out through zerg organisms alone."**

"So they cannot be hacked," said Liara. "You yourself said you could only track the zerg through the destruction they left behind them. This also means that the salarians are at a disadvantage. If the Council is destroyed, if the zerg consume them, do you think the zerg will leave the geth unmolested? How would you wage a war against creatures that can match your own numbers, but cannot be tracked by any of your means?"

Liara panted, the nightmare scenario she had painted in her head seeming to come alive as she had said it. _There will be no krogan to bail us out this time – and even if they did, they might just have ended up like the vorcha. _She watched the geth, which stared at her, motionless.

"Relaying new data to local programs." The geth watched Liara carefully. "We thank the T'soni Doctor for this new perspective. The geth did not consider relative strength of Council military against an unconventional threat, nor the Koprulu Sector conflict's distracting influence."

Approval once again seeped through Liara's being, though she did her best to shake it off. _We're not done yet. They need to see – they need to know that there is no simply "monitoring" this threat. How many more ships will stumble upon the zerg, and be consumed? How long before the Council realizes that the real threat is already upon them? Perhaps such indecision led to the prothean's destruction…_

"Consensus achieved by nearby geth fleet," said the geth representative. "Eighty-seven percent judge the zerg to be a non-dismissible threat to the geth's existence. Fresh surveillance indicates probable zerg presence on Heshtok. Council interference judged unlikely. The geth must step in to secure own future. The geth will go to Heshtok. The geth will combat the zerg, for sake of own existence. The geth offer temporary alliance with Sovereign."

**"Acceptable****. I will still accept whatever elements of the geth you that wish to join me. The cycle cannot be broken."**

"Geth judge Sovereign's mission success to have little impact on longtime diversity of galactic life," continued the geth. "Zerg victory will lead to total homogenization. Worlds will be zerg, then systems, then the galaxy. Could spread to other galaxies. Geth intervention judged as objective ethical responsibility. Existence of zerg life means inevitable clash with non-zerg life."

"We all have a responsibility," said Liara, directing this mainly at Sovereign. "I thank the geth for listening to me. If we move fast, we can still stop the zerg."

"Heshtok will be the first battleground," said the geth, retreating into the tube. "We will move to support the vorcha in their fight. Consensus indicates fifty percent chance galaxy will perceive us as heroes, fifty percent chance as additional hostiles. Regardless of odds, ethical imperative takes precedence. The geth move from the Veil."

The tube slid closed. The red light began to throb again as the ship detached from Sovereign and returned to its own people. Liara, head feeling as if it were full of sparking wires, returned to the galaxy map.

**"****The geth saw reason in your desperation," **said Sovereign as Liara set their destination for Heshtok, something they both knew was unnecessary. **"Following Heshtok, we will take those those few geth who saw reason to the new terran world." **

Liara walked toward a monitor, and mentally requested any and all Codex entries to be brought on the screen. She was not surprised when the readouts appeared. _We have some kind of mental link; who would have thought such a thing to be possible? And what would mother say if she knew I was going to the very world she requested I stay at back on the Citadel?_

"What is the plan?" asked Liara, looking at the few images of half-buried prothean structures that existed.

**"****I know little of the terrans, but they are of no concern. We will descend on the world and take the prothean's secrets. The cycle cannot be broken. If the terrans resist, they will be swept aside."**

_No… no it cannot be like that. They just lost that one world to the protoss – we cannot be just another disaster! We have to be better than that. What would mother do?_

"I am an archaeologist," said Liara loudly. "And I am an asari. We are well-known for our ability to make friends. We do not have to do this. Give me a chance, a chance to find what we are looking for without violence. I promise you, I can do this."

There was a lengthy pause, and Liara could not gauge Sovereign's reaction to what she had said. The red lighting receded, becoming blue and cold.

**"****You know prothean ruins," **said Sovereign. **"They maintained beacons, to maintain contact with each other. Where would one be found?" **

_Then you clearly do not know prothean ruins. Countless archaeologists have scoured these ruins and found at best, only shards._

"I know where one would be found... at least, theoretically," said Liara, looking through the images again. "Very few have been found intact – this planet could easily be no different." Liara scanned the Codex's entry on what was tentatively being called _Terra One_. _No races have set foot on it before an exploration team a few years back. If there is an intact beacon there, it would still be undisturbed. _

**"****I will give you one week. Retrieving the data silently will make the later stages less difficult. The cycle will continue." **

"You keep mentioning the cycle," said Liara, checking files on Feros as well. "What is it? Because something destroyed the protheans – but I've seen plenty of evidence that they were building on the ruins of a people before them as well. What have you seen, Sovereign? How many times have the Sowers of Life… stood by, and watched?"

Even Sovereign's engines seemed to still at Liara's words. Liara detected a hint of anger and… trepidation? _So, Sovereign wants me onboard now. I suppose an asari archaeologist is an apt a choice as any for an agent that needs to comb through prothean ruins and deal with the possibly belligerent locals._

**"****The cycle is the cycle of all living things," **said Sovereign. **"The galaxy was designed to accommodate civilizations, only to see them fall. The exact nature of their destruction varies, but the cause is always the same. The Sowers of Life preserve what we can, but we have no interest in war or petty conflict. But something has changed. The cycle has been altered." **

"The zerg?" asked Liara, failing to come up with anything else. "The rachni were similar, but you didn't step in there. What makes this different?" _The scale, maybe? _Liara did not want to feed Sovereign an answer. Despite the definite link, Liara did not feel Sovereign could just look into her brain and see her thoughts just yet.

**"****Relays have been moved by an outside actor," **said Sovereign. **"The Citadel no longer responds to my commands. The rest of us lie in dark space, sleeping. This Koprulu Sector – it has been intentionally sealed off from the rest of the galaxy by an outside agent. The races within have fallen outside the cycle. They will be brought in line. This outside agent will be found."**

"So these zerg and protoss are new to you," said Liara, smiling a little. "You were as unprepared for the Koprulu Sector as we were." Liara paused. "What role does the Citadel play in this?"

Displeasure rippled throughout the ship.

**"****Remain in the shuttle. We travel alongside the geth, for now. Heshtok awaits."**

Liara shrugged, closing the Codex and returning to her ship. She tried reading for a while, looking up everything she could on prothean ruins on planets she had not visited. _Feros, plenty of ruins, but at an unsafe location in the Traverse. The ruins have been mostly picked clean, but many of the lower levels remain untouched. Worth a visit, if Terra One turns up nothing. _

_Ilos. Barely touched. The quarians considered it, for a time, but it seems that some lingering sense of doom lies on the planet. I doubt it would do anything to me…_

Liara lay on her cot, trying to recall what few details on Heshtok she had ever read. _Vorcha world. Horrible place. So, lots of vorcha… now lots of zerg… and soon lots of geth._

"Are you ready for a warzone, Sovereign?" Liara asked, closing her eyes as the headache began to return.

**"****The Sowers of Life have no interest in war,"** said Sovereign. **"But we are familiar with warzones. Do not fear, Doctor T'soni. We shall not linger long."**

Liara's dreams were of screaming metal and tortured flesh.


	18. Rebel Yell

**Adrien**

The three allied fleets had jumped to a gas giant following the raid on Halcyon. Mengsk had not raised any objections to this, saying that the turian and asari fleets had their own needs, and it would give them some time to plan the next stage of the revolution. _Not invasion. Not assault. Revolution. We are aiding a champion of terran rights take down an oppressive regime._ That was how Adrien had framed it to Janus and how Janus had framed it to the troops. _Liberators. Not conquerors._

Adrien took a deep breath, wincing as his ribs sent out a short stab of pain. The drugs they had given him would keep him from every doubling over, but he could not take anything stronger while he was expected to be in command. Janus had been very helpful with this, doing most of the footwork while Adrien spent his time either on the bridge or in his quarters. And right now, he was preparing for a dinner.

_I can't figure out these terrans._ Adrien looked at himself in the mirror. _You can't see any of the marks. I look fine. An officer of the Hierarchy._ He let out a thin whistle of air. _A good operation. It would seem the Mar Sara refugees had some capable operatives among them, and Kerrigan was about as deadly as I expected. _He recalled that brief moment of calm as the turians and asari had arrived at Halcyon, right under the gun barrels, so to speak, of the terran fleet. _What must they have thought, I wonder? In those brief moments of thought, what flashed through their minds? I would dearly love to know._ The terrans seemed to have a multifaceted aspect to their characters. Some, like James Raynor, seemed straightforward and friendly, if not terribly complicated. And others, like the Magistrate and Mengsk, were polite but he could never tell what they were thinking. _Like salarians. Thank the Spirits I don't have to put up with any salarians._

Now, he would be dining with the other higher-ups, as part of a display of solidarity. It had been Mengsk's idea, but Benezia was quick to snap up any opportunity to display asari dominance, and quickly made it hers.

"Very well," Mengsk had said in response to her suggestions. "I will leave this in your obviously capable hands. However, I must insist that we record this and make it a press release. The Sons of Korhal's alliance with your peoples have been made obvious, and people fear the unknown. They should know the faces of the people to whom they will owe their freedom."

Adrien saw the wisdom in this. _The moment you put a face and a name on a supposed enemy it becomes that much harder to fight them._ The matriarch had apparently agreed, and now they were all to board the _Destiny Ascension_ and enjoy the finest asari cuisine. They even had dextro versions of the dishes.

Adrien cocked his head to either side, feeling his neck crack as he tilted it left. _Normally I would say this is a waste of time, but we're going to need to counteract any negative publicity the Confederacy throws at us if we want to end the conflict quickly._ _And the sooner I leave this sector, the better I will feel._

There was a polite knocking on Adrien's door. He vacated the bathroom to answer it, feeling his chest tighten as he did. _I really wish I could lie down more often._

The door slid open to reveal the bare face of Saren Arterius, fresh from the conflict aboard that enormous science vessel. He nodded at Adrien, waiting for him to speak.

"Lieutenant," said Adrien. "Please, enter. I was told you would be joining us aboard the _Ascension_. I also heard you made quite the positive impression on the terrans."

Saren entered, looking at Adrien's quarters curiously. Until very recently they had been Janus's, and General Janus apparently had a strange taste for volus paintings. The walls were covered in them, and Adrien could not be bothered to take them down for lack of a place to put them. He didn't have the heart to tell the recently displaced Janus that he didn't like his décor.

"Thank you, General. You have… interesting taste," said Saren after Adrien closed the door. "As for the mission, I was pleased to finally speak to Jim Raynor. We got along well enough. These terrans have a curious means of waging war."

"They have ships, gun, and troops," said Adrien, crossing over to his bed and trying not to sigh in relief as he sat down on it. "Their wars seem similar enough to ours."

"They are lax in rank," said Saren distastefully. "They make heavy use of idioms and slang. Even with the translator, there are times I can barely understand them." He shook his head, looking at Adrien and offering a smile. "Do not mistake my confusion for anger or resentment, however. I merely wanted to voice my frustration. The terrans, for their part, seemed to find my own demeanor amusing. Three times I was compared to their Magistrate."

"Magistrate Harper seems a decent man," said Adrien. "Bear in mind that these people, assuming they told the truth, are descendants of criminals from a very distant world. Doubtless they have different standards of communication. They fought well, did they not, Lieutenant?"

"Yes," said Saren, mandibles twitching. "They fought well."

"That is, at this time, the only thing we are asking of them," said Adrien, grunting slightly as he shifted on the bed and felt another bloom of pain. "Their leaders seem sane enough. Speaking of which, it is time for us to go meet them. Are you ready?"

Saren extended a hand. Adrien, after a moment's hesitation, took it, and was pulled to his feet.

"Lead the way, Lieutenant," said Adrien. "Pride is for the young."

They walked together in _Momentum's_ tight corridors. Wherever they strode, crewmen scrambled to make way for the two turians responsible for a relatively painless first contact with the terrans.

"I heard that the Magistrate would most likely not be joining us," said Adrien, wishing Saren would slow down a little. "As I recall, he said something about being busy with decryption. I was given a very strong impression that Mengsk believed the recovered data to be very important."

"I would trust that man's words," said Saren. "He wants to win this conflict more than any of us. I can see it in his face. To make such concessions to the Council when he barely knows us…"

"It worries me," said Adrien, thinking back to Mengsk's booming voice as he proclaimed his intention to ally with the Council. "I do not believe the Citadel Council is easily fooled into giving up more than they have to, but I think they may have underestimated the man. He sucked us into fighting for him far too easily."

"These terrans can execute FTL jumps that take mere seconds, General," said Saren. "They have a means of cloaking that renders them completely invisible, and there is no eezo to be seen in any of their technology – a definite first. Arcturus Mengsk approached us with an open hand – how could we refuse it?"

They had reached the docking tube that led to their shuttle, bound for the _Destiny Ascension_. The turian marines on either side of the tube saluted, and they were let through.

"There are too many unknowns," said Adrien once they were in the tube. "We made a strike against this Confederacy before we even spoke to them. We are now fully committed to a foreign war in very distant space, helping people that are considered terrorists. Their technology is impressive, I grant you, but I question the number of lives we may need to spend to take it."

"I trust Jim Raynor," said Saren. "And Jim Raynor trusts Arcturus Mengsk. That's my line of thinking, General. But I follow orders. If you tell us all to pull out and return home, there will not be a whisper of dissent."

Adrien sat down in the shuttle, shaking his head. "We are committed. I am loath to abandon an ally that has been nothing but accommodating so far. And I have my own orders. The Council wants us here. The Hierarch wants us here. So here we shall remain. I would ask you not to spread these doubts around, Lieutenant."

"Of course, General," said Saren, sitting bolt upright in his own seat.

The shuttle ride went without further conversation. Adrien had never been aboard an asari military vessel before, and hoped fervently that it was not nearly as purple on the inside as it was on the outside. As they arrived and a commando let them in, he breathed a sigh of relief that the interior was every bit as practical as he could have wanted.

The elevator ride to where the dinner was to take place was lengthy. Adrien inwardly marveled at the size of the vessel, even if he personally felt some distaste at the people commanding it. The two turians were greeted at the entrance of what Benezia had called "a grand hall" and were ushered inside.

Turians, asari, and terrans of all stripes sat in great rows of tables. There was some intermingling between the asari and the other two races, but it seemed that the soldiers and officers, for the most part, were content with sitting next to familiar faces. A hush fell over the turians as Adrien and Saren walked by, some even turning in their seats to watch the two of them walk to the head table, where Benezia and Mengsk were seated. Janus was there too, watching them approach, and the admiral of the asari fleet (Lidya, if Adrien recalled correctly) was speaking with Kerrigan. _Oh, wonderful._ Adrien was unamused to see that Kerrigan and Raynor had been seated at the table as well, on either end of it. _Not sure I want to have to stress about mind reading while I'm eating._

"A good evening to you, General Victus," said Matriarch Benezia, standing as they came closer. "It is a pleasure to have you aboard the _Destiny Ascension_."

"A good evening to you, Matriarch," said Adrien stiffly. "Would you be so kind as to tell me why Raynor and Kerrigan are seated here? It is a pleasure, but I was under the impression-"

"Don't sweat it, man," said Jim. "We're doing a press release here. Got some reporter lady in the back. The Magistrate recommended I do some speakin' as well. Probably for the best, half you folk don't talk like normal people."

Adrien looked to Saren, who was offering a grim smile. _Not often that I get cut off like that. I can see why Lieutenant Arterius is confused._

"Very well," said Adrien, unwilling to lose any bearing while everyone was watching. "I can see the reasoning. If many terrans in this sector speak as plainly as Captain Raynor here, it would be best to have someone who knows their language." Adrien moved behind the table, taking a seat between Jim and Arcturus. This left Saren with the "honor" of sitting with the asari. _Rather be cut off then talked over. Let's see what I can learn._

"We spoke briefly before," said Adrien to Jim, who nodded. "I was pleased to hear you stayed with us, and even more pleased to hear you carried yourself well during the op. Did you find Lieutenant Arterius's combat capabilities to be satisfactory?"

Jim furrowed his brow at this, though Adrien did not know what it meant.

"Happy to come along," said Jim. "I feel like the Confederacy needs to be shaken up a bit. Topplin' it would be fine, too, I guess. As for Saren, he did just fine. You turians seem to know your stuff."

"It is good that our two peoples can cooperate," said Mengsk, making Adrien turn to face him. "I am eager to see this relationship of ours blossom. I do not know if you have been told, but Magistrate Harper will not be joining us. He sends his sincere regrets, but says he will not sleep or eat until he has figured out the data we have acquired."

"I heard," said Adrien. "I look forward to seeing what is in that data. You seemed quite keen on having it."

"_Very_ keen," replied Mengsk. "I have seen what goes on in some of the Confederacy's research facilities. When we do get a peek, try to contain whatever horror you might feel, General. Try not to think less of us."

"You got an idea what was in that data, Arcturus?" asked Jim. "Saren had to take out a damn Goliath in that raid, and Kerrigan said she killed quite a few ghosts. They were, uh, pretty dedicated to keepin' us off of it. Wish we coulda seen that kinda dedication on Mar Sara."

"I have a theory," said Mengsk. "But it is not worth focusing on at this time. We are here to broadcast our alliance to the people of the Confederacy, and rejoice in our recent successes. So please, let us turn our attention from business for a moment."

"Very well," said Adrien, looking to Jim, who was nodding. "I would like to ask – are you _certain_ that your home planet has completely abandoned you? I have walked the surface of my world, Palaven, many times. It was where I was born. I find it odd to find your people so disconnected from their roots."

"My roots were on Shiloh and Mar Sara," said Jim. "Don't know anything about Earth. Don't care to know. Those bastards wanted us all dead. I'm fine with spitin' them by living."

"A common sentiment," said Mengsk. "Earth is not well looked on, here. To them, assuming they ever think of us, we would be at best wayward colonists. At worst… well. At worst they would come here to finish the job. For my part, Korhal was my home."

Raynor sucked in a breath when Mengsk said that. "That's rough, man. I'm glad you weren't there when it happened."

"So let me be clear," said Adrien. "Not one of you has ever seen your homeworld? And you've never wanted to?"

"There is no way back," said Mengsk. "I, for one, have no desire to arouse the interest of those distant fools. They sent us out here to die. The turians have colonies, do they not? What is their relationship with your homeworld?"

Adrien shifted uncomfortably. "Generally peaceful, though there are occasional conflicts. Before I came here, I was actually quelling an uprising on a planet called Taetrus. Have you seen the markings on the faces of my people, on my own face?"

"Saren don't have 'em," said Raynor. "But yeah, I noticed. What's the deal with them?"

"They represent old ties, the colonies on which the turian was born," said Adrien. "Saren is a minority – typically, going barefaced is looked down on. Saren likely chose to do so to represent a belief that all turians should consider themselves one people. Anyway, we take pride in the places we came from. I was born on Palaven, and proclaim my allegiance to her through these tattoos."

"I got a few tats as well," said Jim. "Some of 'em mean something. But some of 'em are just there to look good. You get any of that, over on your Palaven?"

"We prefer our symbols to mean something important," said Adrien. "Looking… good… is at best, an unintentional side effect."

The food was served shortly afterward. The asari who brought the meal made it very clear that he was being served a dextro dish, and that medical facilities were available nearby if something had somehow gone wrong. Adrien waved her off and downed some dextro wine almost immediately. His chest was beginning to throb again.

As Adrien tucked into his own meal, he was forced to confront the unpleasant truth that the asari had most likely surpassed his own people at preparing their own dishes. The meal (a Kallite Snapper from Palaven itself) was exquisite. Adrien would have felt angry at these culinary upstarts if the meal hadn't been so well done. He had to struggle not to eat too fast and embarrass himself like Raynor. The man wolfed down his plate in scant minutes.

"Biochemical barriers were a concern," said Mengsk when he noticed Raynor sighing contentedly and leaning back in his chair. "I made certain to provide good records on terran physiology. I wanted this to go perfectly, a sentiment the matriarch shared."

"That was brave of you," said Adrien. "We ourselves did not provide that information until a few years of contact with the Citadel. I suppose your people have more in common biologically with the galaxy at large than we do, however."

"Better than rations," said Jim. "Already gettin' sick of eating B&amp;R every damn day. You aliens been holdin' out on us. This what you guys have been eating?"

Adrien, who had not understood about what half of that had meant, gave Raynor a strange look. "I… no. We do not eat like this often. This is, in part, a celebration of your own recent success, Captain. It is an occasion." Adrien looked down the table, and was surprised to see Saren laughing at something Benezia had said. _Well, they seem to be getting along well._

"So, what's the plan?" asked Jim, the food having seemed to liven him up a great deal. "I heard we were gonna take on Antiga Prime next. This news report gonna be for them?"

"It will be for all terrans, Captain," said Mengsk, taking another careful bite from the dish in front of him. "Antiga Prime is our next destination, but Tarsonis is the end game. If this rebellion is to be successful, we will need the support of the people. Tarsonis cannot fall any other way."

"That's going to be a tough nut to crack," said Jim, confusing Adrien, who had thought they had been talking about planets. _What do nuts have to do with this? _"Orbital platforms bristlin' with AA, fleets patrollin' every which way, and huge garrisons of troops on the surface. Can't see anyone havin' an easy time of it."

"The zerg, perhaps," said Mengsk lightly. "But, yes, otherwise I agree with you, the place is impenetrable. Any conventional assault would be doomed to failure. Even with the help of the Citadel, I cannot see Tarsonis falling without great cost. But nevertheless, it must fall."

"We'll stand with you," said Adrien, having got a grasp of the conversation again. "The Turian Hierarchy is invested in your success, Arcturus. We will do whatever is necessary to bring down the Confederacy."

Mengsk smiled at this in a way that made Adrien feel strangely uncomfortable.

They finished their dishes shortly afterward. Adrien looked down the line of people and saw Benezia and Kerrigan talking quietly as Saren listened, while Janus and Lidya discussed the repairs they each had to oversee after the brief skirmish with the Confederacy. By Lidya's account, the _Destiny Ascension_ was more fragile then it looked, and could never be left unsupported in any battle plan.

"Three dreadnought guns," said Lidya. "Each one firing a slug each every two seconds – sure, that's a lot of destructive potential. But targeting each enemy ship takes a bit of time, so you have to find clusters where your blasts do the most damage. If anything, I would say the ship packs too much firepower – it's never going to be used in a way that fully justifies the size and cost. We should have had the turians step in during development and trim it down a bit."

_I wish the Republics as a whole shared that sentiment. But no, they designed the galaxy's most heavily armed parade float._ Adrien looked back to his dish. _The food is spectacular, however._

A terran woman with short hair and followed by a hovering device approached the table. Unlike Adrien and his associates, he could see that her garb was more casual, as she was not wearing any kind of uniform. _Probably the journalist. Glad I didn't have much to drink._

"Is it time?" asked Mengsk, looking down at the journalist. "Are we ready?"

"Ready to begin our pirate broadcast," said the journalist. "The Antigans will receive it for sure, but there should be people looking in all over the sector. You said you wanted it on hologram, right?"

"Yes, they're harder to fake," said Mengsk. "I want this sector to get a good long look at what the Sons of Korhal have accomplished. I am sitting at dinner with the representatives of alien races. This is not a fantasy. This is a political reality, and we are at its head."

"You just want us to answer the questions, Arcturus?" asked Benezia, earning slight disapproval from Adrien by using Mengsk's first name.

"Authenticity is our number one goal," said Mengsk. "Emily Wong is a capable reporter. I trust both parties to do their duty. We've all been under a camera before, yes?"

The only one at the table who hadn't was Saren. _Well, now's his chance. Him and Raynor have quite a story to tell._

Mengsk stood and tapped his glass with a spoon, which made the terrans at the tables go quiet. The asari quickly followed suit, leaving the turians the last to take the hint and subside into a sullen silence.

"We are about to begin," said Mengsk. "I would please ask you all to remain quiet while we answer these questions. This is the moment where our alliance goes fully public, where we explain that there is friendly alien life among these stars. Have some decorum, please." He nodded to Emily Wong and sat down. Adrien watched with interest as the device floating behind her projected a green light, and she stood in it.

"Good evening and welcome, I am Emily Wong, broadcasting live from the _Destiny Ascension_, an alien vessel. Yes, you heard me correctly, I am broadcasting live from an alien vessel orbiting the gas giant Xibil 8. Last we spoke, I had linked up with Alpha Squadron following arrival on Mar Sara. Since then a great deal has changed – although I'm sure the Confederacy is telling you things are business as usual."

Emily Wong carried on for some time, updating her audience on her meeting with Mengsk and the Sons of Korhal, before finally mentioning the Citadel Council.

"…Council ships aided in evacuating the planet after the Confederacy abandoned it. With me is General Adrien Victus of the Turian Hierarchy, fresh from the conflicts above Mar Sara and Halcyon. General-" The camera turned, and green light covered Adrien's face. "We have subtitles for you, don't worry. General, you represent one of the three main militaries of the Council at this time. Why are you aiding the Sons of Korhal?"

Adrien cleared his throat. "The Confederacy has proven itself an organization that is either unable or unwilling to protect its own citizens. I witnessed the destruction of Mar Sara firsthand, and there was not a Confederate ship to be seen. The air was, however, filled with turian and Sons of Korhal shuttles. We side with right."

"So you did not come to this sector to conquer?" asked Emily.

"No," said Adrien. "The turians stumbled on this place by accident, meeting the terrans only by chance. You have proven friendly and intelligent enough for us to wish to include you in the galactic community, but we cannot do so with a tyranny in place."

"Adrien Victus and his turian fleet are not the only aliens here with me tonight," said Emily, now making the camera focus on Benezia. "Matriarch Benezia, why are the Asari Republics interested in this sector?"

"Guess where all the fellas are gonna be looking for this bit?" whispered Raynor to Adrien in a conspiratory tone.

Adrien thought for a moment before getting it. "Ah, the head fringe, of course. Benezia's is quite prominent."

Mengsk looked to them and gave a look that quieted them both. _The man knows how to glare._

Emily moved on to Kerrigan, asking about how she had established communications with the turians, and then offered a few questions about the Confederate Ghost Program. As Adrien listened to her account, he began simmering with rage.

_Such pain. How could they do that to one of their own people? And they made certain she remembered as little of it as possible._

Jim was next, and he gave a quick rundown of how he linked up with the Sons. Adrien was impressed at his bearing: he laughed at Emily's jokes, made Emily laugh herself, and spoke in a manner that was plain and riddled with slang, but obviously belied impressive perception. _He did say he had been in front of a camera before._

Finally, she came to the man of the hour himself. Arcturus Mengsk smiled and looked directly at Emily Wong.

"Arcturus Mengsk, leader of the Sons of Korhal, wanted terrorist and noted politician. You have been accused of using the Sons of Korhal to further your own political influence, and Confederate troops have the order to execute you on sight. Yet here we are, despite that, alive and well, surrounded by allies. Mr. Mengsk, what would you say the true purpose of the Sons of Korhal is? Has the recent political upheaval of first contact changed your agenda at all? What's going through your mind right now?"

"What is going through my mind right now," said Mengsk, "is how fortunate we are to count such people as Adrien Victus and Matriarch Benezia among the allies of the Sons. What goes through my mind is relief, that we have people standing with us against the callous power of the protoss, the nightmarish horror of the zerg, and the longstanding oppression of the Confederacy. What goes through my mind right now is hope, that we can build a better future through the combined might of our two peoples."

"As for the Sons of Korhal's mission, it remains the same, even if the reasoning has changed. When Korhal was destroyed, we knew that the Confederacy's claims of protecting its peoples and their interests was a lie intended to undermine any possibility of rebellion. My father saw through that lie, and they murdered him. They murdered his family. They murdered his planet. Is it so surprising that we stood and said, "No more?" I ask you, how much can we allow governments to take from us? How much must we sacrifice for some nebulous concept of security, some fragile semblance of peace? How much must we lie to ourselves to believe that we believe in the rightness of our politicians, that their cause seems righteous?"

"The Sons of Korhal seek to end the Confederacy, not only because they failed the people they claim to serve, but because they actively seek out peaceful protest and exterminate it through brutal measures. The purpose of the Sons is to bring back polite discourse and peaceful dissonance, even if our means are anything but. The joining of the Citadel races to our cause does not change our mission – it only convinces us further of the rightness of it."

There was a ringing silence following this. Adrien remembered to close his own mouth. From the back of the hall, there was the sound of a single clap. Before long, all the terrans in the room had stood, and were bringing their hands together in thunderous applause. Jim was crying silently as he stood, a small stream of fluid from each cheek. _He may have had too much to drink._ Adrien decided to join in the display, standing and bringing his own hands together, guessing that it was a mark of approval. Benezia, to his chagrin, had already done so, and the turians were slow in following suit.

Mengsk's face was expressionless, and Emily Wong was sending the camera around to the many people in the hall – Adrien was the focus for several seconds as well. _He knows how to work a room. I wonder what he would have said against the Confederacy if we had allied with them instead?_ But it was hard to envision that. In that instant, that brief shining instant, Adrien could not see Arcturus Mengsk as anything other than a leader of men.

Emily Wong apparently knew she would be unable to top that, so she stopped there. Saren looked across the table at Adrien with a curious expression. Adrien knew what he was asking. _Do I still harbor doubts? I would be foolish not to._ _I cannot deny that it was a well-spoken speech, and that if what he said was indeed true, that it was inspiring. _Adrien downed another glass of dextro wine.

About an hour later, he was ushered into a back room while the many officers of each race were leaving the hall, returning to their waiting ships. Mengsk was waiting with Kerrigan, Benezia, and Raynor.

"General Adrien Victus, you spoke well," said Mengsk. "I hope the subtitles helped capture your poise and bearing. How do you feel?"

"Impressed," said Adrien, his head swimming just a little bit. "You are quite the orator. How much of that was prepared?"

Mengsk just smiled at him. Adrien didn't know what to make of it.

"The Antigans definitely got wind of the broadcast," said Kerrigan, breaking in. "There are reports of riots all over the city. There was even some protest on Halcyon, but Duke stepped on it pretty hard. People were listening. This isn't something they're going to be able to ignore."

"You did good work man," said Jim, who was swaying a little where he stood. "Been a long damn time shince I've seen a speech that good. I mean, you made my shpeech look like crap."

"Should he be here?" asked Adrien, more than a little concerned.

Raynor shook his head at this and cleared his throat. "I'm alright, man, sorry. I'm cool, I'm cool."

"We must capitalize on this chaos," said Mengsk. "Antiga Prime is ripe for revolt and Alpha Squadron can't move far from Tarsonis unless the Great Families are certain they are safe. We can expect some dithering. Lieutenant Kerrigan, I think I have quite the undertaking for you."

"Oh?" said Kerrigan, raising an eyebrow. "What are you thinking, Arcturus?"

Adrien noted that. _She can't read Mengsk. Might have to ask how he does that. Does he just think of something distracting, or…?_

Mengsk just smiled again. "I think it's time we had some words with General Duke, and I think Antiga Prime is the place for it."

Raynor belched loudly, drawing a disgusted look from Benezia and Adrien. "I'm into it. We going to step on his fat neck?"

Mengsk cracked his knuckles, and brought up a display of Antiga Prime.


	19. Earth Forever

**Alexei**

Alexei did not dream. He did not remember. When he stirred in a soft place, he was confused as to where he was, who he was. There was nothing in his head, simply a black space and a faint sensation of pain. His eyes cracked open, letting in a blinding stream of light. Alexei sighed, and awoke.

Alexei was not surprised to find himself in a hospital bed, but he had no idea why he was there. His chest felt stiff, and his clumsy hands found some wound on it covered in a strange gauze. There were indistinct voices, though one was familiar. Gradually, it came back. He had personally engaged Brazilian agents, and came out on top. He remembered taking deep, hacking breaths, drooling blood all the while. Everything had been jagged and hot, and some animal part of him knew he was soon to die. _My lungs were filling with blood._

Yet here he was. His eyes opened fully, and he kept them there, letting them ache as they adjusted. A smiling woman with graying hair was sitting in a chair from the foot of his bed, another chair next to her. She nodded to him.

"Welcome back to the living, Alexei," she said, her smile growing wider. "We knew you would wake up eventually."

"Helena…" said Alexei before sucking on the inside of his mouth, trying to produce some saliva. "How much blood did I lose? How bad was it?"

"The auto-sutures sealed your wounds quickly enough when the paramedics reached you," said Helena DuGalle. "However, you had already been bleeding for some time by then. The doctors said you had gone into shock, but Gerard never doubted you would survive for a second."

"Gerard…" Alexei coughed slightly, and felt like his chest was about to rip open. He winced and shut his eyes again. "Where is he?"

"Stepped out for some coffee," said Gerard as he stepped through the hospital door, a steaming mug in hand and a wide grin on his face. "We've been here for over twenty-eight hours. I did not want to miss your moment of awakening, of triumph. You live, Alexei, and will witness human history take a new course."

"You waited," said Alexei, impressed. "I did not think… no, _you_ did not think! The situation has to be controlled! What is the state of the world? Is Brazil-"

"Hush, Alexei," said Helena, standing. "If you carry on like this, the doctors will throw us out. The world still spins, the sun still shines, and you still breathe. Be at peace."

If it had been anyone else speaking, Alexei would have spat in their face at this. _Flowery bullshit. The UPL must be driven forward – humanity must be driven forward! What idiocy have the politicians been spewing in my absence?_

"Madeleine and Camille were very worried for you, my old friend," said Gerard, sipping his coffee and leaning against the door. "They were watching the broadcast, much to my sorrow. One half of the world was horrified at such a graphic display of violence… and the other half, well, the other half focused on your last sentence before you fell."

"And what sentence was that?" asked Alexei, struggling to remember.

Gerard looked to his wife and shrugged. She reached into her bag on the floor and pulled out a small PDA, tapping several keys before showing it to Alexei.

"Well, get on with it?" said Alexei, starting to remember. He looked at the screen, which featured a rolling series of images – all of which had him transposed upon it to make it seem humorous. There was Alexei standing in the House of Congress in the U.S., telling them to get on with it. Two characters from a TV show famous for its sexual tension, with him slumped over a balcony overhead and telling them to get on with it. And so forth, and so on. Alexei was forced to confront the fact that there were aspects of the human psyche and character he was not prepared to understand.

"Your online encyclopedia page has been updated seven times since you were shot," said Gerard. "It would seem you have become quite the internet sensation. Congratulations, old friend. And you thought you would never inspire anyone!"

"Yes, well forgive me if this was not the kind of inspiration I was thinking of when I said that," said Alexei. "It's hardly encouraging in any case, as it took being shot in the chest to be noticed by the world at large. Have those encyclopedia dolts uncovered anything less than savory about me?"

"The UPL has kept a close eye on things," said Gerard. "Helena and I have kept up with the updates. Now, dearest, our children have been waiting long enough. Would you allow me just one more hour with Alexei, to update him?"

Alexei presented Helena with her PDA, which she took with a smile and a kiss on his forehead. She embraced Gerard, kissing him on each cheek and then the lips, before bidding them both goodbye. Gerard promptly slumped into a chair when he knew she was gone.

"She's… less than happy at what we've been doing," said Gerard, "I received quite the earful after you were brought to the hospital. Worried for you, for me, for Madeleine and Camille because they saw you with a gaping chest wound…"

"She seemed perfectly cheerful to me," said Alexei, cocking his head. "Tired, perhaps."

"She did not want to stress you, what with the injury," said Gerard, his voice suddenly scratchy and halting. "And, well… your own wife is less than thrilled. She said that seeing you shot on the television was the first time your children had seen your face in over a year. Alexei, is this true?"

Alexei's face reddened, and he suddenly found it very hard to meet the gaze of his old friend. "I will not deny that I have been a less than diligent father. But everything I have done, it has all been for Diana, and the children. The UPL-"

"I do not believe you," said Gerard shortly. "She says you have made a deliberate effort to stay as far from your home and family as possible. Alexei, I value my career and service above most other things, but I cherish my time at home, you know that. If you do not share in such joy, then it is none of my business. I only want to know why you kept it a secret from me."

"Heh." Alexei coughed, and had to feel his chest afterwards to check the sutures and gauze. _Still intact. Gerard, please… this is not for you to know._ But Gerard folded his arms and put on his admiral's face, leaving Alexei with little choice.

"It's hard to go back home after a two year absence," said Alexei. "The faces of your children are not the ones you remember, for they have grown. Your wife does not feel the same way as she did when you met her, before you served. Every time I returned home, it was to a familiar place filled with strangers. It felt… awkward, to hug my children, to touch my wife. A different man than I left them to serve the UPL. It became easier to just go on serving." Alexei closed his eyes. "I missed the birth of my fourth child, Artyom. To be frank… I do not think he is even mine. It means no matter. I am guessing this is the end of it for my wedded life, Gerard?"

"I… yes, Alexei," said Gerard. "She said she barely recognized your face as well – and two of your children did not at all."

"Best let the UPL know they will have to cover up a divorce," said Alexei, struggling to feel anything except a hollow sense of relief. "I am… glad, to not have to think of them again, except to support them financially. They will live… good lives."

There was a long silence between the two of them. Alexei felt pressure in his head, in his eyes, and wondered why he felt so terrible, when it was something he had secretly longed for a long time. Gerard looked more miserable than he felt (probably,) his stern features having crumpled slightly, making him look his age.

"To business, then?" croaked Alexei, wanting desperately to push forward.

"I suppose," said Gerard, his tone harder than Alexei was used to. "As you calculated, our findings, presented as they were, caused an enormous stir. Brazil, long viewed with sympathetic eyes by many UPL citizens across the globe, have now been denounced by every major government. At the UPL Intelligence Center's recommendation, we posted the videos for public access online. Each video had over three billion hits in under eight hours. It would seem that, for the first time, the UPL does not only command the public's attention, but also their passion and their imagination. I turned over your information centers to the UPL, Alexei, that they might gather more intel while you were out. I am sure you will forgive me."

"Of course, Gerard," said Alexei. "Have they found anything?"

"A great deal, most of it posted to the public," said Gerard. "Enlistment rates have spiked. The world is teetering on the edge of… action. The South American Coalition looks poised to join us, as even its citizens feel that hostile alien life cannot be ignored. Right now, it's a big scare. But no one knows how long that will last."

"Under the UPL? Not very long." Alexei shifted himself into a readier position. "They have wallowed in a pit of their own stagnation for too many years, afraid to adjust their positions, their attitudes. If things need to change for good…they need to go. Is the UPL High Council planning to convene? They would have to include us."

"You're hardly in the best condition to-" began Gerard, stopping when Alexei tore off the covers, removed the IV, and leapt to his feet. Something began to beep, and Alexei thought he could hear the herd of nurses descending upon him.

"I am well enough," said Alexei. "Get on with it."

Despite the protests of first the nurses, and then the doctors, Gerard and Alexei's various means of stating "I am an admiral, let me past," eventually worked, though they made Alexei sign forms in triplicate and promise not to do any physically strenuous activities. _That means no more murdering Brazilians. _Alexei left the hospital in strangely good spirits, brimming with the kind of energy that he knew, in his heart of hearts, only came from some kind of manic episode. _I feel like I could do anything, and I know for certain that that is not true._

"We shall head to London, Alexei," said Gerard as he flagged down a taxi. "Only a short trip. I believe this meeting will mostly be happening over holocam, but with the recent riots it would probably be safer away from Paris, and I know the United Kingdom has tightened security recently. When we get there, I will notify the UPL so that they can send security teams – though I think Brazil's time as our foe may be done. I imagine the Council will be surprised to have the pair of us in the session. Do you feel alright?"

Alexei spat on the sidewalk. "Medicine has come a long way, though there is no substitute for treating blood loss other than to slowly replace it. I promise not to go faster than a walk."

They entered the taxi and sat on either side of the back, ordering a brief flight to London. Alexei noted that Gerard was pointedly not looking at him. _Not all of us can have perfect family lives, my good admiral. And now that my careers is truly all that is left, do you think I want to sit idly by while my greatest accomplishment is ongoing, yet in the hands of others? _

They arrived in London with hardly any hubbub. The great crowds of people still walked past the taxi without any kind of recognition as the two UPL admirals stepped out of it. When Alexei looked around at the old gray buildings, with their gargoyles and stone, it was to find many of them had had UPL recruitment posters slapped upon them, one or two of them even incorporating the phrase, "Well, get on with it!" _Ah, the joys of social engineering._ At least none of them featured Alexei's own face. On one of the great holographic billboards seated atop a building, Alexei saw another variant of the phrase appear, the UPL's logo emblazoned beneath it. _I am already sick of that sentence._

"Let's find a hotel," said Gerard. "I know a place, and we need to make some calls. You are… feeling alright?"

Alexei nodded and began to follow Gerard, trying not to walk too fast. _That blood is going to take some time to replace itself._ They found a decent hotel, and managed to wangle a room for the two of them through the time-honored practice of throwing money at the managers until they stopped complaining about a lack of a reservation.

While in their room, Alexei took the time to take a lengthy shower, spending most of it intermittently enjoying the heat, and looking at the massive wound on his chest. When his hairy knuckles grazed the sutures and gauze, he made certain to do so as gently as possible. He tried to imagine the additional stitches done on his lungs proper. _Probably going to have to lay off the cigars for a while. I will have to remind myself that life is still worth living._ It was when he could feel some of the painkillers beginning to wear off that he left the shower, drying himself as gently as possible.

Gerard was waiting outside, lying on the bed with a hand over his face.

"I notified local UPL officials of our presence," said Gerard. "There are now armed guards outside our door; they were not pleased that we left the hospital. There is to be a great meeting tomorrow, conducted via hologram. I suppose they will be deciding the fate of the human race, Alexei. I am sure you're delighted to know we've both been officially invited."

"It's what I've been waiting for," said Alexei, opening his bag to find the painkillers. "Let's see if we cannot kick these people into doing something for a change."

The rest of the day could not move fast enough for Alexei. He took Gerard (both of them escorted by very scowly guards) to a small fish and chips place, and had to content himself with drinking only flavored water. On the way back to the hotel, he was recognized by a small group of people and had his picture repeatedly taken. Later, he would watch his online encyclopedia page undergo an edit war as people attempted to add the new photos. _Madness._

The following morning, Alexei awoke to several people wheeling in holo cams while supervised by Gerard. He made sure to swiftly change, if only to match his associate admiral's already well-groomed appearance. Alexei was quite thankful to find that one of the guards had left an officer's uniform for him, though he getting rather annoyed that getting shot had left other people more or less in control of what had been his idea.

The two of them stood before the holo cam, the green light filling their vision. The other holo cams turned on, revealing representatives from the eight most powerful nations, seven of which were in the UPL: France, the U.K., the U.S., Russia, Germany, Brazil, China, and India. Alexei took one, long, hard glare at the Brazilian representative, a lady who gave him a warm smile. _A few days ago, I was drenched in the blood of your countrymen. Do not think to smile at me, suka. The SAC's sun just set._

Alexei was surprised (but not unhappy) to see that Admiral Steven Hackett, current high admiral of the UPL fleets, was also present. He nodded to Gerard and Alexei, his stern demeanor and grizzled face lending itself to the image of a battle hardened veteran. _It will be good to receive his input. No one has ever been more in tune with the health and strength of the UPL military._

"Gentlemen," said the Indian representative, Robert Singh, "I welcome you all to the latest gathering of the UPL assembly. I am pleased to have with us three UPL admirals, two of which we should all be very familiar with given recent events. Welcome back to the living, Alexei. I believe you are familiar with these representatives. Shall we, as you say, get on with it?"

"How clever," said Alexei, eyes narrowing. "Yes, we should proceed. I see the SAC will be joining us."

"I am Fernanda Bolivar," she said, flashing another smile at Alexei. "Despite our mutual distaste, Admiral, we are in agreement on the stagnation within the UPL and the need for action in the Koprulu Sector. I thank you for bringing this to our attention."

"And I thank you for sending mewling amateurs to the assembly," said Alexei coolly. "I killed four of them myself."

"Enough," said George Staver, U.K. representative. "We can discuss who killed who later. As Gerard said, this is a time for unity. We cannot hang separately when alien ships are destroying colonial vessels left and right."

"I say we go out there and meet these bastards," said Michael Kelly, displaying a typical American attitude to a military threat. "It's about time we stopped sitting around and staring at each other, waiting for something to happen. Looks like that "bloated" military budget isn't so bloated after all. Admiral DuGalle had the right idea."

_Aggressive. I like it. _Alexei was fine in their belief that Gerard had written that speech, that the ideas within it were his. When his old friend gave Alexei an inquisitive look, Alexei merely shook his head and let the others continue.

"I would not recommend an expedition at this exact time," said Admiral Hackett. "The UPL fleet, while still greater than anything the Koprulu Sector could muster, is still direly underfunded in several departments. The only nations making regular contributions in material and personnel are China, Russia, and the United States. Recruitment is up, but we cannot expect this to last. And any trip into deep space could be expected, at best, a several year long tour, and at worst, a suicide mission. The troops would need to be groomed for that."

"We could easily scour the streets," said Viktor Korenchkin, Russian representative. "Perhaps... bring back the old Neural Re-socialization processes? If promised a purpose, training, shelter, food, and pay, there are many desperate men and women who would not refuse. And we never lack for political prisoners…"

"I think you underestimate the fervor that has taken hold of this planet," said Staver. "These aliens have drawn the public eye, and moreover, their ire. People are working themselves into a self-righteous fury over the footage, and many believe the Koprulu Sector to be far closer than it really is. If we spin this the right way the only issue will be filtering recruits, not drawing them."

Alexei smiled at this. _So it worked then. A fascination with aliens has taken the planet by storm. And here we are, poised to exploit it._

"So, what?" said Fernanda. "You want to send out thousands, perhaps millions of men and women far out from home to fight aliens? What could we possibly gain from this?"

"Love of the public," said Alexei. "An establishment of a new order of government, potentially lucrative colonies, galaxy wide human dominance – an empire, more or less."

"Empires and colonies do not carry positive connotations over in South America," said Fernanda. "We have seen the ugly end of it. And history has proven empires are doomed to have the sun set on them sooner or later – look at Rome, Britain, the United States…"

"We're still standing!" said Kelly furiously. "We're still strong! We know enough of history not to repeat the mistakes of the past, and we're not going over there just to kick alien ass and bring the colonies in line – it's about protecting ourselves."

"The mistake is trying to form an empire in the first place," said Fernanda. "Overextension only ends up weakening or breaking nations in the long run. It would be far better for the planet as a whole to-"

"We have seen the footage," said Marie Beaumont, French representative. "These aliens are hostile to human life, and have technology that we do not understand. The race identified as "protoss" worries us in particular. They burn human planets and seem capable of instantaneous teleportation. Earth cannot be caught unprepared. The riot in Paris, though unrelated to these concerns, is only the beginning. Earth is slowly slipping from our grasp. We need an enemy – and these aliens are only too happy to oblige us."

"We have an advantage already," said Friede Berg, the German representative. "These aliens are not aware of us, and the colonials believe us to have long abandoned them. We can take all the time to prepare that we need, and then take the galaxy in a sudden storm. Are we still gathering intel?"

"More by the minute," said Staver. "Admiral DuGalle was kind enough to hand over Stukov's keys to the intelligence centers. We've counted at least eight different alien races so far, all of them intelligent enough to have developed FTL travel. But none of them are looking towards us."

"Are you seriously considering this?" asked Fernanda, eyes growing wide. "They are _so_ many light years away! You have never before even contemplated going to the Koprulu Sector – and now you believe you can conquer the galaxy?"

"To be sure, the UPL would not be capable of such a thing," said Alexei, smiling widely at the Brazilian woman. "But a united Earth, throwing all of its economies and military knowledge into such an endeavor? We have all of the intel, plenty of time, and a populace begging us to do something." He leaned forward, glowering at each diplomat in turn, sparing only Gerard and Hackett his gaze. "My friends. You could get away with literally _anything_ if it is seen as promoting Earth's survival. _Carte blanche_, as Admiral DuGalle might say."

"Earth's natural resources are almost completely depleted," said Korenchkin. "Our colonies on Mars and Phobos are populated by desperate outcasts dying from solar radiation. Our people are restless. If you look closely, you can see that the Koprulu fools have access to more commodities than we do. This might be our one opportunity."

_Bless Russia, she chose her diplomat well. Doesn't mean I plan on heading back there any time soon._

"You're going to do this," said Fernanda, tone resigned. "No, _we're_ going to do this, because the SAC is screaming for us to take action, and I'd rather we went out on our own terms. But mark my words, Earth will suffer for this. We will be making ourselves known to the galaxy as conquerors and imperialists – make certain you remember Brazil warned you."

Her hologram winked out. The remaining diplomats and admirals stared at each other.

"We will need to pick leaders for this expedition," said Hackett, finally. "They would have to be exceptional individuals to whom staying away from home and hearth would be no-"

"I volunteer," said Alexei quickly. _How convenient, I can suddenly put light years between myself and my family. _"I am willing to do anything to further human dominance."

"Your dedication has already been noted," said Friede. "You took a bullet to protect Admiral DuGalle, and your service record, according to your cybernet encyclopedia page, is quite impressive."

_I really need to keep an eye on that page._ "Thank you, Miss Berg. I would be happy to lead-"

"But it was Admiral DuGalle's speech and demeanor that roused the masses," said Staver. "It would probably be best to have him lead the charge, if he is willing. Are you willing, Admiral?"

Gerard looked to Alexei, confused. Alexei tried to shake his head as subtly as possible, but wasn't sure his old friend saw. _Say no, damn you. You have a family here, you've done enough. Let your crazy Russian friend-_

"I would be honored to lead these fleets," said Gerard. "I would only request some time to spend with my family. I would like to believe that I will return promptly, but the best laid plans of mice and men…"

"So we got Ivan and a French guy on it," said Kelly. "Admiral Hackett, you think they're good picks? I'd personally feel better if we had an American - heck, even a SAC migrant like yourself leading them into hell."

"Earth should not be left undefended," said Alexei fiercely. "We must commit a great deal to this, but not everything. Hackett?"

"I trust in Stukov and DuGalle," said Hackett calmly. "They have about half a dozen Crux de Valors between them. I do not think the expeditionary fleet will be left wanting for my absence."

"We'll also need to "disband" the UPL," said Beaumont. "We must accommodate our South American allies. I suppose we can establish a committee for that…"

"Be ready to meet the adoring public, my good admirals," said Staver. "This is the moment everything changes – on the surface at least. Best of luck, and thank you, in advance, for your service."

The holograms all winked out, and Alexei closed his eyes and placed his head in his palms.

"Alexei? Are you alright? Alexei!"

"You did not have to come with me, old friend," said Alexei, head still buried. "I only needed you as a mouthpiece, and people listened. Now – now you will be going deep into hostile territory alongside-"

"One of my oldest friends, after spending at least a year off-duty with my family," said Gerard firmly. "This invasion will take time, Alexei, and I have the utmost faith in our ability to conduct ourselves in the Koprulu Sector. My family is not the only thing to which I am obligated, Alexei. How long have we served?"

"Too long, perhaps," said Alexei, removing his head from his hands and looking to Gerard, who was smiling sadly. "I did not want this for you. I've given everything already-"

"Which is why you need someone to keep an eye on you," replied Gerard, putting a hand on Alexei's shoulder. "Come, my friend. One last campaign. One last adventure. And this time, you need not return to an unfamiliar home. Perhaps there is a place for you in the heavens, among the stars."

Alexei was still reflecting on those words two days and many drinks later as he stood out of sight from the balcony on which Gerard was stood. Gerard faced the silent crowd on the streets of London, tall and grim, his officer's uniform now slightly modified from how it had been before.

"The United Powers League is no more," proclaimed Gerard, "and the Southern American Coalition has been dissolved as well. For the first time in our history, Earth no longer has borders. Humanity stands together under the United Earth Directorate, long may it prosper! As one, we shall take this galaxy in the name of human supremacy. Forward, citizens of Earth! Do not be afraid to suffer! The future awaits!"

The applause was thunderous, and Alexei removed the cigar from his front pocket, lighting it nonchalantly. Recruitment was up. People nodded to each other on the street and eagerly discussed how they could support their fleets in killing aliens. Both he and Gerard DuGalle were now internet sensations, beloved even by the many iconoclasts that frequented Earth's various cyber networks. He need never worry about Diana and the children again. Down below in the square, marines were saluting as Gerard raised his arms, bringing the crowd to a deafening crescendo.

_Earth goes to war and I am not afraid to suffer. Come then, ye zerg and protoss, ye turians and asari. We will watch, listen, and build. We will strike at the moment you are at your weakest. _

Across the city, the new UED flag bearing the eagle and bolts was being raised. There was no dissent. Alexei drew in the smoke. He was ready.


	20. Resistance

**Daggoth**

_Reapers!_ Daggoth quivered in the nest his brood had built for him on the surface of Therum. _There is a Reaper already active!_ He had recognized a faint yet impressive psionic signature from the craft the vorcha had been expecting – yet it seemed the Reaper had been using it as bait. His own small force of mutalisks had been burned out of the skies by the malevolent ship, and it had taken the signature before it could be examined and infested. _But they cannot hide. We have the scent._ Daggoth had latched on to the signature, and it now traveled throughout the galaxy, heading steadily towards geth territory. _You will be ours, Doctor T'soni. You show far more promise than the turians._

Unfortunately, Daggoth could not immediately begin the pursuit he so longed for. The mass relays refused to recognize the zerg he had sent to them. Daggoth scanned the brains of his infested vorcha and found to his dismay that the relays would only be activated through inputting the mass of approaching spacefarers – something that required an electronic component. From what he understood, inactive relays were a great deal more responsive – but he was seated on the edges of a very active galaxy and Heshtok already had a path mapped to it. He could not call on the Overmind either – not until his own brood had expanded far beyond the point they were at now. So a workaround would be needed.

The ruined Blood Pack ship, _Palaven's Doom,_ hung in orbit, serving silent testimony to the ferocity of the Tiamat Brood's warriors. Daggoth thought carefully about the ship's size. _It could not bear more than a few of my own brood warriors, but it bears the technology necessary to carry my swarm. _Daggoth took note of the resources his brood had gathered, and knew they were ready. He contacted the nearest hive, and told them to make the grand preparations at last.

The leviathan took twenty-six hours to grow. Daggoth oversaw the process directly, making certain that the leviathan was capable of what he planned for it to do. When the creature finally emerged, roaring as it ripped free of its pulsing chrysalis, Daggoth marveled at the first leviathan this corner of the galaxy had ever witnessed. The creature bore an extended jaw, and a great space had been left in the upper half of its carapace. Daggoth instructed the great beast to swallow the vessel whole, leaving it nested in the special space he left within. The leviathan complied, lifting itself into the air and buoying up, up, and up into orbit. One of its tendrils lashed out and attached to the vessel; with a great tug, the leviathan drew the ship into its massive jaws, the vorcha still within.

Next came the loading of his finest brood warriors. The leviathan swallowed them all; guardians, mutalisks, hunter killers, and countless zerglings. They all nestled quietly within the guts of Daggoth's Leviathan, which he then sent on a beeline for the Knossos System's mass relay.

When Daggoth's fliers had first reached the mass relay, he had made certain to destroy the comm buoys. It would alert the rest of the galaxy eventually, but they were unlikely to pursue an unknown catastrophe while the threat of the Koprulu Sector still loomed. The Knossos mass relay had proven a perfect nesting place for scourge. The little fliers typically rode on the backs of overlords until carried into combat, but a deep space artifact that saw frequent traffic was a perfect location. Nine ships had passed through the relay so far, each coming out at slightly different distances from the relay. The first thing they had witnessed was the numerous overlords observing the relay. The first thing they felt was their vessel being crippled as the scourge powered quickly through space and sought out their craft. Daggoth now instructed his overlords to gently latch on to the ships and tow them back to Therum. _If this works, we will have a need for as many ships as we do leviathans. I am also curious as to what other races I might induct into the glory of my brood._

It would have to wait for the moment. His drones still gathered rich deposits of minerals from Therum's crusts, but the creation of the Leviathan had all but exhausted their current stores of biomass. Additional planets would be required, unless he wanted to begin cannibalizing his own hive clusters. _Heshtok awaits._

The vorcha within the leviathan's belly helmed the still (mostly) functioning bridge of _Palaven's Doom_. The relay locked on to them, and Daggoth had them input the adjusted mass of the leviathan. A thin beam of blue extended from the relay and latched on to the ship. _One of two things will happen. The first: only the ship will be sent to the destination, shearing the Leviathan in half. The second: the Relay recognizes the Leviathan and they reach their destination together. _Daggoth felt the zerg inside the belly of the beast quiver as they reacted to Daggoth's tension…

The corridor extended, enveloping the leviathan entire. With a booming gurgle, it was catapulted into a new system. Daggoth was left with a quiet sense of fulfillment, though he was more than a little irritated that he would be dependent on scavenged starships for mass relay use for quite some time. _If it expands my brood so that the will of the Overmind might be made manifest, then it must be so. But to meld the steel and the flesh in such a manner? It is almost heretical. It would seem this galaxy was not built for us. _

It took three jumps for the leviathan to reach Heshtok. Everywhere it went, Daggoth gave the order for local comm buoys to be destroyed. _They will not track us_. When Heshtok was finally in Daggoth's sights, he rejoiced. _The vorcha are the closest species I have ever seen to our own – they have almost achieved Purity of Essence! I will give them the gift of the Overmind's everlasting glory. They will be freed from the shackles of mortality. They will be cherished under the Swarm._

Daggoth could feel the psionic presence (which had become quite faint) leaving what he believed was the Perseus Veil, coming closer to his leviathan. _If the Reaper is still with you, then I welcome it to Heshtok, T'soni! I will destroy the foul machine and wrest its wretched secrets from its smoldering remains. Test the Swarm's might at your own peril._

The leviathan descended, belching mutalisks, scourge, and guardians as it went. Where it landed, a horde of drones crawled forth. The vorcha that investigated the disturbance half an hour later bore witness to the first zerg hatchery to be birthed on Heshtok.

They howled and warned their fellows of the disturbance, but were stopped at the sight of their infested brethren. Daggoth ordered them to approach, but the vorcha only readied weapons.

"NO CLOSER, NO CLOSER!" screeched one of them, spraying spit at his infested comrades.

"We have come home," intoned back an infested vorcha at Daggoth's order. "Our lifespans, extended! Join us, brothers and sisters! WE SERVE SWARM!"

Daggoth looked through his minion's eyes and gazed in muted awe at the vorcha specimens before him. They had thick plating on the chest and legs, doubtless to help deal with frequent skirmishes between clans, and their feet had a thick carapace on them that appeared to be heat resistant. Daggoth's own vorcha in comparison bore skin that had been replaced with a thick zerg carapace. Their legs had been tuned to better sense vibrations in the soil and their claws were now capable of rending apart armor. _Importantly, their adaptive cells are still in place and can now replenish over time. Should they survive, they will become mighty warriors indeed!_ Daggoth was enthused at the prospect of incorporating vorcha DNA throughout his brood, but he would require a great many more samples before such a thing would be possible. _And there is no greater concentration of vorcha than on Heshtok._

The native vorcha seemed confused by the offer, but that confusion quickly gave way to violence. The uninfested vorcha howled as their guns rattled in their hands, the rounds punching through the carapace of their former brethren. Daggoth's vorcha leapt forward, a bloodlust clouding all reasoning. One ripped a foe's head from their shoulders before beating another to death with the bloody skull.

The surviving vorcha of Daggoth's brood were then left standing alone in the ash of their former homeworld as their specialized cells kicked in. Their bleeding slowed as the repairs began. Shortly after, their chests had become better armored, and their blood clotted much faster than before. _It will be some time before those cells are ready again, but that does not dull these creature's potential. Every battle they survive will make them stronger. There may come a time when even the Hunter Killers of my brood will quail at the passing of these vorcha. There may even come a time where they will be able to match the fierce protoss on the field of battle!_

The creep spread quickly, the substance killing weeds everywhere it went. Heshtok spurred distant memories of the far-off zerg homeworld, Zerus. _Highly volcanic. Life adapting to harsh conditions, evolving on an individual basis… yes. This is so familiar._

Roving bands of vorcha occasionally came across the hatchery, but most were swiftly dispatched by a rain of acid spores from the guardians. Whatever was left was converted to raw biomass, the adaptable genes slowly being incorporated into the Swarm. Daggoth knew there was one vorcha city nearby, but they had not taken any apparent notice. _No alarms raised and not a Council ship to be seen._ The psionic signature was growing closer, but Daggoth was not afraid. _This planet is mine._

Daggoth began his assault on the city with a rain of acid spores. The guardians formed a line that stretched a half-mile through the air, groaning as they belched projectile after projectile at the walls of the city. The vorcha, surprisingly, did not have any kind of response. The scourge and mutalisk swarms Daggoth had set up to intercept aerial attackers hovered idly.

A large chunk of wall melted inward suddenly, collapsing into a pile of smoking sludge. Daggoth ordered the charge, zerglings and vorcha leading the way into the city.

Not many orders needed to be given. He implanted the suggestion that as many vorcha as possible be carted back to the primary hive cluster, but other than that let his brood run free.

Despite the lack of resistance in the skies, the streets of the city were a nightmare. Every vorcha bore a weapon and was ready to use it. Many bore barely functioning kinetic weapons clearly scavenged or bought from Council races. Some had strapped grenades to their chests and leapt into combat without fear, surrounding themselves with members of Daggoth's brood before exploding with a bloodcurdling scream. And a few, a small angry few, brought flamethrowers to bear.

The streets of the vorcha city had been run down and disgusting even before Daggoth had arrived – this was the first time Daggoth had fought a people that defecated out in the streets of their urban centers – but all this seemed to do was convince the vorcha that their city could stand being wrecked. Suicide vorcha charged out of alleyways and into the waiting arms of hunter killers, blowing limbs off of Daggoth's warriors. Flamethrowers lit up the streets with wild abandon, setting zerg and vorcha alike on fire as the streets filled with chemical smells. One building, constructed partially from rotten wood but mostly from native low quality rock, caught fire as one flamethrower wielding vorcha went down under a pile of his infested brethren. The fire quickly spread, and Daggoth was soon left unable to see anything that was happening on the streets. From the air, there was only smoke and screams. From the ground, there was only confusion and rage. Daggoth flew an overlord overhead and took in all he could see.

The gaping hole in the city was rife with activity. Badly injured or unconscious vorcha were being carried out on the backs of zerglings while hydralisks and newly infested specimens clawed their way in. Inside the city, on the outskirts, the fire was spreading quickly. The sounds of battle carried through the air while the occasional gout of flame could still be seen emerging from the smoke. Within, Daggoth's brood hissed and shrieked in rage, pain, and fear as they slowly closed in on the center of the city.

Unwilling to expend too much more in the way of troops and surprised at the ferocity of the resistance, Daggoth brought his guardians overhead. The center of the city was swiftly bombarded. Vorcha were reduced to shrieking piles of burning flesh, quickly silenced. Vorcha manning the tops of buildings and firing into the hordes of zerg were also targeted, their buildings leveled in the process. _I had hoped the destruction would not have to be this total._ But it was, and Daggoth continued until there was barely a building left standing in the center of the city. It was at this point that the surviving vorcha had surrendered, having been cowed by this display of force. _They have to be dominated in person, conquered one by one._ No other vorcha settlements or tribes had given the slightest response to the city's sudden siege and destruction. _Disgusting. Their biology is impressive, but their society is not. They will find solidarity in the Swarm._

Back on Therum, Daggoth quivered in slight anger that he would have to bring destruction to each vorcha city, one at a time. _No unified resistance, but no unified surrender either. Selfish, brutal creatures. They will be improved._

The few infested vorcha survivors that emerged from the smoking ruin of the city had unsurprisingly developed an impressive resistance to heat. Daggoth noted the strain for future use. _They will bring fire on us, time and time again. There must come a day when the carapace and scales will blacken but not burn, when the flesh underneath is unscathed by the heat. This is the first step._

The signature was coming closer, at least in the cosmic sense. Daggoth did not know how many relays lay between Heshtok and the Reaper, but he was already working on creating another Leviathan on Therum. _We will be ready._

Heshtok had few urban centers, and they were not in close proximity. Far more common were roving bands of vorcha, who Daggoth was beginning to term as "wild." These all refused to do anything but die to a man, making the harvest extremely frustrating. The cities, on the other hand, had a breaking point, though it was a brutal one. It was after the third city burned and fell at the hands of Daggoth's guardians that he realized he would have to harvest the entire planet in order to have anything close to the number of infested vorcha he wanted. _So be it._ _The victory will have to be total._

The signature had jumped four times, and Daggoth was now growing slightly anxious. Heshtok had little in the way of resources, meaning that the only hive clusters Daggoth could reliably set up were in the ashes of fallen vorcha cities. The frequent volcanic activity of the planet had left all manner of toxic chemicals in the air, poisoning water sources and soil alike. This was not helped by the vorcha, many of whom had spent a great deal of time poisoning their own planet already with their own vehicles and weapons. It was when vorcha began taking notice of Daggoth and started launching lightning raids and rudimentary artillery strikes on nearby hives that Daggoth was forced to conclude that the planet was hell. Therum was hospitable enough to zerg, with good soil and no inhabitants to battle, but Heshtok was no place for non-vorcha life. _That does not change my mission. They will learn to submit._

The signature jumped again, and there was activity at the mass relay. Daggoth took a break from battling vorcha and directed his fliers to leave the atmosphere and head for the relay. _The casualties will be staggering, but the prize will please the Overmind greatly._

The mutalisks and scourge left Heshtok and bore directly for the Relay, the leviathan holding in the center. Daggoth began to sense something was wrong as his zerg grew closer to the relay. _It is of no consequence. Kill the Reaper, take its secrets. The war will be half won. _

But it was not a Reaper that Daggoth saw, as the interlopers and his zerg met halfway between Heshtok and relay. A swarm of strange looking ships that lacked all life signatures or psionic imprint approached his swarm. Their weapons began to fire, and many smaller ships swarmed out of the hangars and bore towards his zerg. _No… what is this? What is this?!_

Daggoth split his swarm, letting his leviathan and mutalisks bear the brunt of the sudden onslaught while his scourge dipped below the ships, planting themselves below the enemy fleet. They then surged upwards towards the bellies of the enemy.

The enemy fleet met Daggoth's fliers with not a hint of fear or hesitation. Their fighters swept through the ranks of Mutalisks, turning an empty corner of space into a furious close range battle between beast and machine. The fleet used different weapons than the turians and vorcha had, their close range blasts leaving burns that melted mutalisks into pieces. The fleet, meanwhile, had targeted the leviathan.

The leviathan closed the distance quickly, tendrils at the ready. It vomited acid at the first ship it came across, melting the hull and leaving the ship adrift. Round after round pounded into the leviathan, leaving large angry burns on the thickened outer carapace. As the leviathan speared part of a ship repeatedly with its tendrils, casting debris into the void, Daggoth's scourge made impact with the rest of the fleet.

Many of them were intercepted by an impressive point defense system that Daggoth desperately wished he could emulate, but others made it through. Their gas payloads exploded, crippling several vessels, but leaving still many more. Daggoth's mutalisks were having a hard time keeping up with the swiftly maneuvering ships the fleet had sent to intercept him, and the Leviathan was taking a hefty amount of damage. Several of its redundant organs had begun to fail as it cut a slow path through the enemy fleet, moving from ship to ship. Daggoth could still sense the psionic signature, but the Reaper was nowhere to be seen.

Daggoth, growing slightly frantic, pumped a lake's worth of growth hormones into his still developing leviathan on Therum. He positioned many of his brood warriors close by the chrysalis – he would need to save as much time as possible in order to reinforce Heshtok against the invaders.

Another group of wild vorcha had also assaulted a hive cluster. Daggoth angrily redirected several hunter killers to pursue them before returning to the battle at hand.

The leviathan was powering toward an enormous enemy ship. Daggoth did not recognize the make, but he knew enough about the Council races to know a dreadnought when he saw one. The main gun fired at the leviathan, causing it to slow as parts of the carapace flew off and melted from the heat. It fired again, and Daggoth felt the leviathan's life signs begin to fail. It belched a horde of scourge which approached the dreadnought eagerly. The third round pounded Daggoth's mighty leviathan, just as the distance was closed.

The tendrils lashed out eagerly, puncturing the hull of the dreadnought in one, two, three places. The leviathan drew it in, great globules of blood pouring out into space as it did so. It summoned forth another great stream of acidic vomit, and the dreadnought sparked and groaned as it lost its hull integrity. The leviathan speared its prey another three times before straining, trying to pull the vessel apart. With a mighty shriek, the dreadnought was pulled in two, either end drifting apart from the other. _Victory._

Daggoth's gloating was cut short as the Reaper abruptly appeared, having apparently held back near the relay while its allies made the initial push. The leviathan, badly wounded and still being bombarded by many frigates and cruisers, turned to face its foe. The Reaper's chassis glowed a blood red along its spine. As the leviathan closed in, tendrils at the ready, the Reaper let forth a burst of heat.

Daggoth had never seen a payload like this before._ A protoss Mothership, certainly. But those are few in number, and can summon forth such force only with great effort._ The beam burned through his leviathan completely, piercing the heavy carapace almost effortlessly. The great red blast moved, burning the beast apart. With a gurgle and a cry, the leviathan separated into several cauterized sections. Daggoth cursed as the Reaper moved into the fray, its advanced targeting systems letting it pinpoint optimal locations to slice mutalisks apart without harming its allies. _The battle for Heshtok space is lost. Move then to the surface, you pitiful machines. Let us match armies._

Daggoth ordered the denizens of his hive clusters to scatter, anticipating swift orbital bombardment. Of his aerial defenses, only guardians remained. As the last eggs hatched and their former inhabitants bounded off into the Heshtok wilderness, the skies became clouded with enemy ships. The Reaper had vanished again, though this did not give Daggoth any comfort.

The bombardment lasted thirty-five minutes. First, the enemy bombed Daggoth's hive clusters. The structures melted and burst under the sudden onslaught, the larva screeching and dying alone on the abandoned creep. Next, the enemy performed several quick sweeps with their smaller frigates, scanning as much of the planet as possible for errant thermal signatures close to the remains of the hive clusters. To the vorcha, it would appear as if random patches of their homeworld were suddenly lighting up with weapons fire. To Daggoth, it alternated between suddenly losing precious zerg warriors or watching in amusement as another band of wild vorcha were suddenly erased via a barrage from the uncaring heavens.

Finally, the overlords were targeted, having correctly been identified as little threat. Daggoth had moved many of them as far from the fighting as possible, but some had to be left behind to insure the survival of the rest. Their bodies burst above the ash of Heshtok, their melted carcasses crashing into the earth. It was after ten minutes of overlord slaughter that Daggoth was finally able to look into the face of his enemy.

Their troops rained from orbit. Daggoth had only spread to one continent so far, meaning there was relatively little area to cover. The machines fell from the heavens, landing with heavy thuds before unfolding with their weapons at the ready. An infested vorcha, burrowed under the soil, was the first to see them.

_Geth. Of course it would be geth. Life seeks life and machine seeks machine. It stands to reason the Reapers would ally with such beings._ _No psionic imprint, no possibility of infestation, no chance of intimidation. Of all my foes, these geth are the beings I am least happy to see._

Daggoth knew little of the geth. The vorcha that he had under his command recalled only that their creation had been at the hands of a race of outcasts called the quarians, and that the geth kept to themselves at the edges of space. They were feared by the galaxy at large and barely understood. _In short, I am as blind as the rest of the galaxy when it comes to fighting these enigmatic beings. I must find a quarian to infest._

The geth infantry varied in size and shape. Some were great four legged organisms that Daggoth guessed filled the role of armor. Others were bipedal and bore pulse weapons. Small geth flying organisms had also made their presence known, flying in small formations while accompanying their infantry variants.

They moved as one, making no noise aside from electronic clicks and sharp bursts of static. Many of Daggoth's zerg lay burrowed under several of their companies, watching carefully. Heshtok had fallen silent, but Daggoth knew what was about to happen.

The vorcha, incensed at these new intruders, fired an artillery shell at one geth company. The geth scattered as their barriers flared, several soldiers catapulted quite a distance at the force of the explosion. The geth fliers took off abruptly, tracking the smoke trail the shell had left behind. Daggoth, meanwhile, unearthed his hunter killers.

The geth reacted instantly, swiveling to engage the new threat. The hunter killers opened their flaps and unleashed a flurry of spines, punching through the geth's barriers and puncturing key systems. The geth scattered, returning fire and burning angry holes in the Hunter Killer's outer carapace. The four legged geth took aim-

An ultralisk burst up from underneath it, catching the geth tank between its kaiser blades. The barriers flared briefly before the tank lost one of its legs. The severed appendage sprayed a white substance as the tank collapsed. The Ultralisk emerged fully and bellowed, stepping hard on the face of the tank. With a sharp crack it lay still. The geth backed up frantically as the field they had landed on filled with unearthed zerg. Elsewhere across the planet, much the same was happening. _We have lost the skies, but we own the ground._

The geth did not back down. After the first two companies were lost, they sent another, larger wave of troops to reinforce their still standing forces. The areas they had conceded to the zerg were subjected to another wave of orbital bombardment, and Daggoth knew he could not just shrug off those losses. _Fortunately, the Leviathan is just about finished._ Back on Therum, his own forces prepared to make their own journey to Heshtok. _It will still take several hours._

These hours were nothing less than excruciating for Daggoth and the Tiamat Brood. The geth realized quickly that the burrowing capabilities of the zerg made for a serious problem for any of their ground operations. Daggoth knew they likely had thermal capabilities, but also knew that the natural heat of Heshtok's soil in the more volcanic areas made those capabilities useless. The geth countered this in the only way they knew how: by systematically bombing any area that they planned to move into. Slowly but surely, they were creating a safe, zerg free zone around the remaining cities on this particular Hesktok continent. Daggoth could only keep wind of geth operations through the use of local wildlife that had been infected with a queen's parasite – the geth were otherwise quite thorough.

Daggoth was forced to pull his forces back and stay well away from geth AOs, something he silently conceded as impressive. _They know how the Zerg Swarm operates, and they know what we came here for. _After the first hour, the zerg attacks and counterattacks had stopped completely, turning Heshtok into a subtle rout. The geth, however, were forced to continually endure assaults from local irate vorcha, none of whom were intimidated by the prospect of the orbiting geth fleet suddenly turning them to so much dust and ash.

Daggoth was amused as the geth had to restrain themselves time and time again. For emotionless beings that did not speak, it was clear that they were straining to find the logic in preserving the lives of creatures that would not and could not respect their efforts. Every geth counterattack became steadily more severe, until at one point several of their drones were sent to begin strafing an especially aggressive city. Back on Therum, Daggoth was quivering with amusement. _The fools. They should be heaping praise on the geth. And now the leviathan is come._

It burst out of the relay, payload ready, repurposed ship still sitting in its guts. Mutalisks, scourge, and overlords climbed out of the leviathan as it made a beeline for Heshtok. The Reaper was still nowhere to be seen, and Daggoth had lost the scent of the psionic signature. _Must have changed, or been somehow altered. The Reapers possess strange capabilities indeed._

The geth fleet had already been depleted by the previous space engagement, and this time there was no Reaper or dreadnought to back them. Daggoth had made sure to include as many scourge as possible, and that effort paid off immensely. The leviathan and its accompanying forces scattered the geth fleet with scant few casualties before raining zerg on the remaining geth companies. New hive clusters were established, and Daggoth gloated at his recent success.

This was short-lived, however, as another fresh geth fleet arrived through the relay fifteen minutes later, this one bearing two dreadnoughts. On Therum, Daggoth trembled with rage. He positioned his own zerg fliers directly above still inhabited vorcha cities and silently dared the geth to initiate bombardment.

They did not. Daggoth diverted all available zerg to every city possible. _Every vorcha I kill or infest makes the Swarm stronger, and you cannot or will not take the steps necessary to stop me. Come meet me in the streets then, and let us see who has the mightier army, the stronger will._

Sure enough, the geth repositioned themselves above the city the leviathan loomed over and began landing their soldiers outside it. The opposing forces readied themselves for a lengthy struggle, both against each other and the ever belligerent vorcha. On Therum, Daggoth waited and prepared more leviathans, cannibalizing the less productive hive clusters for biomass. _Heshtok will take far more effort than I would like. But there are other targets._ His mind and memory drifted in the direction of Council space proper, where not everybody owned a gun and the planets were vibrant and fertile. _Better targets. Let the geth come rushing after us into Council space. They will not be seen as heroes. As well it should be – no allies of the Reapers should have an easy time of conquest._

Somewhere out there, the Reaper that had killed Daggoth's first leviathan still lurked, Doctor T'soni in its clutches. _It will keep to the edges. It did not approach Heshtok any closer for fear of being revealed to the galaxy at large. My conquest will lure it out._

As Heshtok burned and Therum lay quiet, Daggoth planned his next target. The hives were ready. _And now, without anyone noticing, the shadow of the Swarm falls over Council space._


	21. Throwdown

**James**

Jim sat in his combat suit atop the short mesa, watching Saren's prone form twitch with every passing gust of wind, every hint of noise. Saren's gun, a silenced rifle, shifted from left to right as the turian scanned ceaselessly. Jim's own, much larger rifle was cradled in his lap, safety on, and he paid it little mind. Below the two of them was a massive expanse of hard mudflats, a common feature on Antiga Prime. The air was cool and dry, and Jim licked his lips as Saren twitched yet again while muttering to himself.

"You always this jumpy?" asked Jim, causing Saren to fall still as he listened. "Magistrate's gonna tell us when to expect the convoy. Nothing to worry about, man. You're tirin' yourself out. Take a break. Drink some water."

"It pays to be alert," said Saren stiffly, still remaining where he was. "I would not want to be caught unawares at a critical moment. We must be ready for anything. How can we be certain the Confederates are not aware of us?"

"Across the way, Sarah's on the other mesa," said Jim, pointing across the space between them, to the mesa that Kerrigan was occupying. "She'd know if somethin' was up, bein' psychic. Plus, the Magistrate's got the comms for this planet, and he don't miss a thing. We'd know if something was wrong. Way I see it, we ain't heard anything, so everything's going accordin' to plan. Convoy will be here in three."

Saren didn't reply, but he didn't move either. _Turians must have strong eyes, he'ds been doin' that for half an hour. _

Bored, Jim decided to contact Kerrigan.

"We doin' alright, darlin'?" Jim said into his suit. "Sittin' nice and quiet, everything on schedule?"

"Convoy will be here in two," said Kerrigan immediately, making Jim wonder if she could read his mind even from this distance. "I just saw a Vulture pilot scouting ahead. I'm guessing we'll have four or five to deal with. My lockdown round is prepped, and my sniper team is ready. How good is your aim feeling today?"

Jim stood and turned the safety off, walking next to Saren and standing with a scope to his eye.

"I'm feelin' pretty confident, darlin'," said Jim softly. "Let's do this."

Through his reticle, two Vultures coasted through the mudflats, their riders pressed against their bikes. When they stopped, both riders straightened, gave a cursory glance around them, and waited. The distant thrumming of an engine could be heard.

"Sloppy," he heard Saren mutter. "They're not expecting anything to happen. Do they not realize they are at war?"

_Our definition of war might be a little different from yours, Saren. Antiga Prime ain't seen any conflict just yet. That'll change soon enough._

The enormous truck could be seen from quite a distance. It had been fitted with treads and painted a dull brown, all the better to help it traverse the mudflats without being seen or getting stuck. Another two Vultures flanked either side of it, keeping up with their relatively slow moving escort without any real difficulty. They glided easily over the mud, leaving no trace of their passage. Jim fixed his sights on the one closest to him, a figure in a mud-stained and hard worn jacket. _That one's mine._

"Commander," said Kerrigan in a hushed tone, "target is in sight. Four Vultures, passing directly beneath us. Preparing to intercept."

"Roger that, Lieutenant," said the Magistrate, his voice betraying a slight hint of exhaustion as he spoke. _Poor bastard. That Confederate intel we snagged at Halcyon has really been keeping him up at night._ "You are free to engage." Jim's trigger finger started to itch.

A humming sound echoed through the air, and Jim refixed his sights to see the two scouting Vultures surging forward in a sudden flurry of activity, keeping ahead of the convoy.

"Saren, think you can take out those two scouts?" asked Jim.

"I was born to do it," said Saren, shifting a little on his belly.

"Teams," said Kerrigan, a slight hint of tension creeping into her voice, "when I fire the lockdown round, you'll see and hear it. Jim, Saren, you got your targets picked out?"

"Saren's got the scouts," said Jim, now looking at his target again. "I got the guy on the left of the truck. Just say the word."

The scouts were nearly directly beneath the mesas now, and the truck wasn't far off either. They weren't spaced as closely together as Jim would have liked, but they still seemed completely unaware of their presence. Jim waited for Sarah's mark.

With a hum and a crackle, Kerrigan's lockdown round made quite a bit of noise when it fired. Jim's reticle had been fixed on his target, compensating slightly for distance. He barely registered the sharp crack as his rifle went off. With a shudder and a distant cry, his target fell off his Vulture, which catapulted forward, out of control. The still air filled briefly with screams and the sounds of gunshots, but stopped as suddenly as it had started.

Jim exhaled.

"Commander," said Sarah, sounding slightly out of breath, "truck is locked down. The Vultures have been neutralized. No sign of movement from the target. Permission to get down there?"

"Do it," said the Magistrate as Jim traced where the foremost scouts had been and found both riders lying in the dirt with several round red holes in their chests. _Jesus, Saren._ "Proceed with caution. Do NOT harm the driver."

"See ya in a bit," said Jim, saluting Saren before putting down his sniper rifle and grabbing his C14. He dropped from the mesa with nary a sound before landing in the dry mud beneath. Kerrigan was descending as well, albeit a bit more gracefully than Jim's solid drop. They gave each other a brief nod when they met, traversing the now debris and corpse-strewn area together.

The huge truck was crackling faintly with electricity, the lockdown still in effect. Kerrigan rushed forward, rifle at her shoulder. She knocked twice on the driver's door with one hand before backing up and pointedly keeping her gun trained on the seat. A short woman wearing a baseball cap dropped from the truck, hands up. Jim kept his gun lowered, held up a hand in peace.

"Hey, sorry about all this, but we need you and your truck. We're with-"

"Sons of Korhal," she said, her tone a little strained but less scared than Jim had expected. "I was told you might have a go at me – apparently all of our aerial supply routes have been blockaded. Confederacy thought this would be a little more discreet." She jerked a thumb back at the huge truck, still locked down.

"We've got three fleets and a planet to take," said Kerrigan. "We're watching everything the Confederacy does. Your names Darla Perkins. You were en route to the main colony. And your truck is carrying… huh."

"Something good, darlin'?" asked Jim, feeling awfully sorry for what Darla would be forced to do shortly.

"Firing mechanism for a groundside ion cannon," said Kerrigan. "I want to take a look. Open the back, Darla. Now."

Darla kept her hands up and walked in as steady a pace she could manage to the back of the truck. With a grunt, she wrested the back door from its place and revealed the contents. To Jim, it was just a mish mash of wires and metal, but Kerrigan's expression hardened when she saw it.

"Commander," she said, putting a hand to her ear and holding the headpiece steady, "might want to ask your friends about new Confederacy secure channels. They're building an ion cannon down here. Check Jim's feed. We got a firing mechanism here."

Jim made sure to keep his eyes fixed on the machinery, so the Magistrate would get a good long look. There was a short pause.

"Damn," said the Magistrate finally. "The fact that this little fact slipped through is… not good. Still, I think we can work this to our advantage. How finished is the cannon?"

Kerrigan looked briefly at Darla, who had lowered one of her hands briefly to scratch her nose.

"They just need the mechanism," Kerrigan said after a moment's concentration, making Jim wonder how many ghosts like her were out there. "It was the only piece of equipment they could not build onsite at the main colony. If that thing gets finished…"

"Whoever controls it will control the planet," said the Magistrate smoothly. "This will work out perfectly."

"Guessin' you're a telepath," said Darla grimly as Kerrigan looked to her. "No need to torture me and make me spill my guts then. So, uh…"

"We ain't here to kill ya," said Jim. "But... we had to take out your escort. Sorry about that. We need you to do us a favor." He glanced at Kerrigan. "Miss Perkins here ain't resoc or anything?"

"She isn't even military," said Kerrigan before Darla could open her mouth. "She's lived here all her life, driving for the colony. The Confederacy picked her because they knew she could make the run without too much difficulty."

"…damn, picking through my brain like that," muttered Darla. "Ain't natural. So, you're not executing me, then?"

"We need you to drive me into the colony," said Kerrigan. "I'll be cloaked, in the passenger's seat. I've got an important visit to make up there, in the command center."

Darla looked around her, her arms now lowered. "That'd be quite ambitious, ma'am, considering they'll be asking questions about what happened to my escort."

"We've got some Confederate painted Vultures on standby," said Kerrigan. "We need you to stay cool. If you blow our cover, it'll turn a swift, mostly bloodless revolution into a slaughter. Guess who'll be the first to go?"

_Damn. Sarah can be cold when she has to be._

Darla took a deep breath, let out a low whistle. "I'm, uh, just a trucker for a colonist, ma'am. And you just killed four good men around me. If I act a little nervous…"

"Hey," said Jim, "you ain't gotta be perfect. I promise, nothing will happen to you if you help us. If it helps, focus on the fact that we're here to liberate, not conquer. You've lived here all your life, Darla. Are you happy with the way the Confederacy has treated your planet?"

Darla shrugged. "They usually don't pay much attention. You people are the ones shooting up the place and establishing blockades. But hell, if you claim you're here to make things better, I ain't in a position to argue. Best get them Vultures down here quick, I'm on a schedule."

Matt Horner's dropship arrived in a mighty speedy fashion, lowering to the ground and letting several Vultures speed out. Jim's waited, still unmanned. It took him all of thirty seconds to exit his suit, shout a most likely unheard compliment at Horner's flying skills, and put on his helmet. _I was just on TV. Probably best if I didn't show my face around the colony._

"Dusting off," said Horner after Jim exited, the four Vultures now all side by side, hovering over the mud. "Picking up the sniper teams and then waiting for the fireworks. You sure the colonists are ready for this?"

"They're polishin' their guns and chompin' at the bit," said Jim. "Antiga Prime is ready."

"If you say so," said Horner, the dropship lifting. "Good luck!"

The lockdown round had finally finished screwing with the truck's systems, letting Darla resume her travels. Kerrigan sat in the passenger's seat, primed to activate her cloak at the slightest disturbance. The three boys Jim would be riding with were all Sons of Korhal lifers – two of them were even former residents of Korhal itself. _I feel for you guys. At least the Confederacy's gonna pay for that today._

At Darla's shouted instructions over the roar of her truck's engine, Jim and his cronies put two men in front to lazily scout while Jim and the sole remaining SoK goon stayed on either side of the truck while Sarah leaned out the shotgun window and let her red hair trail behind her with the wind. _May as well try to relax, eh darlin'? You've got a hard job in front of you._

Jim drove up alongside the window, grabbing Kerrigan's attention.

"Is our driver on the level?" asked Jim, trying to be heard over the roar of the truck's engines. "What's she thinkin'?"

"She'll cooperate," said Kerrigan. "I've got this handled, Jim. Just try to keep a low profile until I give the signal."

Jim fell back after that, trying to take the opportunity to relish the feel of having a bike under him again. It made him feel a little better, though what he really wanted to do was make use of all that open road without having to stay next to Darla's damn truck.

In the distance, a large mesa protruded from the earth. Jim could see the silhouettes of bunkers and prefab colony structures. _Alright. Target's in sight._

Jim remembered Saren taking a long look at the colony from orbit.

"Elevated location," he had said finally. "There's only one entrance from the ground. And this is a civilian settlement?" Jim had said it was, and Saren had mightily approved of its choice of location. _Something about it being rare to see a modern settlement being built with defending itself in mind. I have a feeling the Koprulu Sector is a bit more hellish than these Council aliens are used to._

"Getting close," said Sarah over the radio, having pulled herself in, closed the window, and cloaked. "Boys, I'm going to need you all to be on your best behavior until I give the signal. We're not going to get a second shot at this. Darla, try not to get too nervous, and do not give us away. I'm pretty good with knives."

Jim didn't hear Darla's response and was pretty sure he didn't want to.

On the nearest corner of the mesa as they approached, a siege tank swiveled its gun to face the incoming traffic. Two missile turrets flanked it on either side, their heads endlessly rotating in search of airborne hostiles. The flats had given way to a short length of road, and Jim soon found himself under the shadow of Antiga Prime's main colony.

On either side of the road were two bunkers. Guns protruded from every side, the marines inside obviously alert. The Vultures all piled up next to the truck as it stopped at this checkpoint. Jim held his breath as a woman in a Confederate officer's uniform strode with purpose to the driver's window, a hand resting on the butt of the pistol creeping out of her holster.

"You're late, Perkins," she said, tone icy. "I was told you were the best bet for making sure this shipment got here on time. Middle of nowhere giving you trouble?"

"No ma'am," said Perkins back, tone betraying a slight hint of fear. _Well, at least that's a bit justified. This woman's scary._ "They had me taking a few detours I otherwise wouldn't have made. Added about twenty minutes to the trip. Seemed to work, though – no sign of the Sons."

"Good. Those bastards and their alien friends have been intercepting every dropship we've been sending here for the last three days," said the officer. "Clearly they don't have the ground routes covered yet. I'll send word to the command center to start sending more trucks – you'll have your hands full, Perkins. Good work. Head on through."

Jim, peering over his Vulture, saw Darla tip her hat before moving on through. He followed suit, avoiding eye contact with everyone and everything as they climbed up the reinforced concrete ramp up to the colony proper. _I know it's stupid, with the helmet on, but I can't help it. One wrong move and we're done. _

The streets of the colony were paved with concrete and quite wide, to better allow large vehicles to move through. Every corner was a marine in Confederate colors, gun at his side, his eyes on the citizens. The streets were silent, people staring in sullen silence at the truck and the Vultures as they went by. Jim could see dried blood on parts of the sidewalk as he went past. _You can tell there was just a riot. Even if we weren't here, this place would go up in flames sooner or later._ For some reason, that did not comfort him.

The truck made a few turns before stopping in front of a large spherical building adorned with several radar dishes – the command center. Jim looked away as the passenger side door to the truck opened without anyone there, hoping that no one else bore it any mind.

"Hey. Branders! Branders, that you?"

A Confederate firebat was yelling at Jim, crossing from his post to over where Jim sat.

"No, man," said Jim, hoping the soldier would piss off. "Just an FNG from Tyrador. Corporal Findlay."

"Oh," said the firebat. His visor was up, revealing a splotchy face with a shaved head and bulging red cheeks. "Sorry. Thought you was someone else. You got a bad posting, boy. Antiga Prime is a damn powder keg."

"Yep," said Jim, keeping his tone clipped and short. Unfortunately, the firebat was a talker.

"Had a riot here not a week ago," he said, obviously settling down for a nice long spiel. "Streets was lit up. I was on duty, and this suit don't come with a stun function, if you know what I mean. Sarge, he tells me to "suppress" the crowd. Smelled awful."

Underneath his helmet, Jim's face reddened at this. His fingers flexed and unflexed.

"Got the job done," said the firebat cheerfully, grinning. "Sarge said I can get far for that kind of performance. No hesitation, just _whoosh!_ Everyone on the street dispersed pretty quick after that."

Jim angled his head over to where his career Sons of Korhal friends were sitting on their bikes. They were watching the firebat with great interest. Darla, who had opened the back of the truck in preparation for moving the ion cannon parts, was also listening in, her face pale.

"Probably didn't win you any friends in this colony," said Jim carefully. "People don't take kindly to having firebats runnin' loose, burnin' their friends and family."

The firebat snorted. "They was riotin', practically proclaiming their intent to go rebel. We went easy on them."

Jim was about to respond when the radio crackled with activity. There were several muted gunshots and a soft moan.

"The officer's taken care of," said Kerrigan, voice cool. "The Antigans are, well, quite done with the Confederacy. I'll let the good captain tell the news."

"Sons of Korhal just waxed the Confederate jackboot," blared a voice from the command center, his voice reaching every loudspeaker in the colony. "It's Liberty Day, boys! Go loud! But watch the Vultures, those are our guys!"

As the firebat gawped, Jim cleared his revolver from his holster and pointed it square at the stunned soldier's face. He pulled the trigger once and watched the blood spatter in the back of his helmet. Yells and hooting could be heard all over the colony, and gunshots rang through the air.

Jim didn't miss a beat, tearing off in his Vulture down the street, the grenade launchers prepped. He kept his head down as Antiga Prime erupted into chaos around him, bullets whistling over his head as he blazed by.

Jim found a cluster of Confederate marines holed up behind an overturned car as he rounded the corner. Jim hammered the triggers for his grenade launchers three times, the concussive grenades punching holes in their suits before exploding, painting the inside of the armor a dull crimson.

"Commander, the target has been neutralized," said Kerrigan, only slightly audible above the din. "The colony is rebelling. We need to move on to the next stage."

"Got it. Nice work, Lieutenant," said the Magistrate. "Raynor, how's it look out there?"

Jim sped by several Antigan marines deliberately treading on the fallen forms of their Confederate counterparts. Two of them opened their visors and spat on the bodies as they went by.

"It's lookin' alright," said Jim. "Colonists obviously weren't too happy with the Confederacy already."

There was a deafening boom in the distance, followed by a series of cheers. The captain, whatever his name was, spoke again over the loudspeakers.

"Nice work on the siege tank! Drive these fuckers out! Sons of Korhal will be makin' a landing shortly!"

Jim made a few passes on the streets, but saw no Confederate soldiers still standing. He saw the officer lady from earlier being marched past with her hands bound. She shot Jim a confused look that quickly turned venomous when Jim offered a mock salute. He drove back to the ramp and took a look down it. The two manned bunkers had been turned into smoking, shredded pieces of twisted steel and concrete. Jim took a deep breath through his nostrils, letting his body fill with the scent of a swift victory. _Didn't even have to do much. All it takes for folks to free themselves… is the belief that it's possible._ He thought back to the firebat near the command center, the casual way he had talked about his heavy handed riot control. _Good riddance._

A pair of dropships descended from high above, landing close to his destination. _Magistrate, probably. Maybe Mengsk. Plenty of preparations to make. Guess it's time to head back and figure out what's going on next._

Jim drifted through the streets on his Vulture, taking in the sights of revolution: a Sons of Korhal flag being raised, a group of angry looking men and women parading the helmets of Confederate marines and firebats on sticks, several teenagers kicking the fallen body of a Confederate soldier. _After what these folk experienced, it ain't that surprising._

What did surprise Jim, however, was what he saw when got to the command center. Two smirking Antigan marines stood over the body of a young woman, a baseball cap still sitting skewed on her head.

Jim stopped the Vulture and got off, ripping off his helmet as he ran to her. Darla Perkins lay dead on the ground, a think trickle of fluid draining from a small hole in her head.

"Sympathizers," growled one of the marines. "Bitch drove the truck up here. Antigan born, and she drove the truck."

Jim looked up from the body, sudden emotion contorting his face. "You-"

"Jim!" It was Kerrigan's voice, but Jim didn't turn around. "Jim! Stand down!"

"You killed her," he said to the marines in a low tone. Despite being armored and carrying a weapon each, they backed up when they saw the fire in his eyes. "She let us IN, you bastards! This revolution wouldn't have been possible if she hadn't cooperated, and you-"

A strong hand turned Jim away from the marines. Sarah Kerrigan stood before him, flecks of blood covering her front.

"It's not going to help, Jim," she said. "It's too late for her, and we've still got a lot to do."

Jim's eyes narrowed. "You think I'm just gonna let this go?" He pointed back at the two marines, who each raised a hand defensively. "I didn't sign up just to watch more innocents die! If the Sons are going to put up with shit like this, then why did I even get up this morning?"

Sarah looked up at Jim, brow creasing slightly. "It's not okay, Jim, we're never going to condone or order this kind of thing, but revolutions are always a bit… messy. We didn't set any innocents on fire, Jim."

Jim shook his head angrily. "Get out of my mind, damn it. Don't try to manipulate me. This ain't right, Sarah."

"Then what are you going to do?" Kerrigan asked, stepping away from Jim and crossing her arms. "What's going to make this right, Jim? Do you have some way to bring Darla back? Maybe you want to kill these two marines, balance it out? They just joined our cause, Jim. Probably thought killing Darla would do us a favor."

Jim looked back to the marines, who had backed up against the wall of a nearby building, clearly uncertain about what was going to happen to them.

Jim glowered at them. "Get gone. Now." They obeyed.

He looked back to Sarah, shrugged helplessly. "Let's just get this done. But I ain't forgettin' this, Kerrigan, and neither should you."

"People get hurt in war, Jim," was all she said back.

People were dragging body bags through the halls of the command center. One of the men doing so snapped a salute as the two of them approached, dropping the bag with a thud.

"Jim Raynor! Saw you on that little broadcast! Captain Farnham, head of this colony's security." The captain extended his hand to Jim, who just stared at him.

"He's not really in a good place, Captain," said Kerrigan, stepping between them. "The driver who brought us in here, two of your marines just killed her. Thought she was a sympathizer."

"I see," the captain nodded stiffly. "Point them out to me when you get a chance, I'll deal with them as appropriate. Some people need reminding that there is a difference between enthusiasm and extremism. At least we sweeped the streets clean of Confederate scum."

"I'm sure Darla Perkins would have been thankful," said Jim dryly, unblinking,. "Just… deal with those guys appropriately. None of us signed up to gun down civilians."

"Right," said the captain. "As you say. Your commanders are waiting in the intelligence center – even brought a few of those aliens with them. Wish I had a chance to speak with them, but..." he picked up the body again. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Raynor. I'll keep the colony secure while you plot out the next move."

_Right. Not exactly the plotting type, myself. _He kept thinking back to that thin trickle of blood. _I promised she'd be safe if she did what we asked. I should have stuck by her…_

Mengsk, Victus, and the Magistrate were waiting for them, standing at a round command table that had been recently sprayed with blood. Jim thought he could make out just where Kerrigan had executed the head Confederate officer. _No wonder she was covered in blood. Looks like she made quite a mess._ Several turian marines and asari commandos watched them enter, standing shoulder to shoulder with the Sons of Korhal's own troops. Despite his own unabated anger regarding Perkins, Jim couldn't help but feel slightly impressed at the swift integration of the Council forces.

"Raynor," said Mengsk, nodding. "Lieutenant. It is good to see you are both still intact. I have brought a small detachment of Council forces to, well, parade around this colony. The sooner the Koprulu Sector becomes used to their presence, the easier it will be to integrate once the Confederacy falls. It seems we arrived at an apt time. The colony defected quickly."

"They just needed one bullet," said Kerrigan, gesturing at the blood on the table. "Once the commander was shot in the very heart of the colony, the colonists knew that the Confederacy, for all of its trappings, was still composed of mortal men. It's easy to forget that."

"Naked force," said the Magistrate, his face gray from lack of sleep. "It is crude, unpleasant, and effective. It's amazing how quickly people recall how fragile everything is." The Magistrate's eyes flicked to the aliens when he said this. Jim wasn't sure why.

"At any rate, the first stage of the operation was a success," said Mengsk. "There's no sign of Alpha Squadron, despite our having surrounded the planet with two alien fleets. But I'm guessing our time is running out."

Jim felt a surge of interest as he remembered what the real reason for taking the colony had been. "It's time to get ahold of ol' Dukey."

Mengsk smiled slightly at this, looking to Raynor. "Indeed. He's defended Tarsonis in over thirty major battles. If anyone knows how to break through that planet's lines, it would be him." He turned and tapped a key on a less bloodstained part of the table. A display of Antiga Prime came up.

"There are at least two other major Confederate holdings on the planet," said Mengsk. "The camp to the southwest holds the bulk of local Confederate ground forces. Fortunately, we cannot expect them to launch an attack on this position without a significant air presence – which they lack."

"We hold the colony now," said Victus bluntly. "You can put a face on those "alien" fleets. I'd be happy to order my ships to wipe out what's left of the Confederate forces."

"Do it," said Mengsk. "We cannot afford any major interference for the next stage – which the Magistrate has just changed. Harper?"

Harper wiped sweat from his forehead. "In terms of space combat, Council forces and Alpha Squadron should be at an impasse. Terran ships lack the barriers that the Council ships possess, but their laser batteries ignore Council barriers. Both sides would tear each other to ribbons relatively quickly, assuming Victus and the Matriarch could move their fleets so that they would not be outranged by the batteries-"

"Count on it," said Victus. "I did not come all the way out here to be defeated, Commander. Still, I would prefer if we could avoid a straight fight against Confederate forces wherever possible – repairing our ships this far from home is at best, an arduous affair."

"We've got an ion cannon that's close to completion," said the Magistrate. "That gives us a significant home field advantage. The question is whether we can maneuver Alpha Squadron so we can get a clear shot on the _Norad II._ The cannon could help us neutralize Alpha Squadron's ships-"

"At the risk of this colony," said Mengsk. "The Confederacy will happily bombard this place from orbit to take out the cannon. We need to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Why? You more worried about the Antigans or losing the tactical advantage?" Jim asked, watching Mengsk carefully for the reaction. All he got was raised eyebrows.

"Is there a problem, Captain Raynor?" replied Mengsk. "I was considering both, to be honest, though I will confess that bringing Edmund Duke down is the greater of the two concerns in my eyes. Has something happened?"

"Just witnessin' firsthand what revolution looks like sometimes," said Jim, not backing down as everyone in their little assembly fixed their eyes on him. "Little people getting caught in the crosshairs. Seems to me that the ion cannon is inviting more of those kinds of situations."

"He's fine, Arcturus," said Kerrigan. "Our driver was shot dead by overzealous Antigans. Jim, these people seem quite willing to oppose the Confederacy. They're going to jump at the opportunity to knock some Confederate battlecruisers out of the sky with the cannon."

"Right," said Jim, not really feeling any better. "Just… let's try to keep the damage control down. Stick to soldiers just shooting soldiers."

"It's never that simple, Raynor," said the Magistrate. "I applaud your moral fiber, but revolutions are messy. When we take Tarsonis, do you think that every man, woman, and child down there that is unassociated with the Confederacy or the Old Families is going to be safe? We cannot control every situation down to the finest detail. Believe me, our ops so far have gone far more smoothly than they have had any right to."

"You have unrealistic expectations, Raynor," said Victus, his tone hard. "To the turians, every target is a military one. Were it up to me, I would have brought this planet to heel by immediately bombing all Confederacy occupied territories until it brought about unconditional surrender. In some ways, the direct approach saves more lives. I suggest discarding whatever scruples you have until the cleanup – that is when you will be most able to afford them."

"Not sure I'm gonna do that, General," said Jim, a little taken aback. "But I get your point. Sorry, let's get this show on the road. I'll probably feel better about this once Duke's head is on a stick."

The Magistrate tapped a few buttons on the table. Small triangles appeared on the readout, symbolizing ships. Two were far away from the planet and each other, while the third, the one with the fewest ships, hovered directly over the Antigan settlement.

"Military travel from Halcyon typically arrives here," said the Magistrate, pointing a gloved finger to a space between the two most distant fleets. "The calculations are all sorted out, no risk of collision with other ships or any kind of debris. The turian and asari fleets will hit them from above and below, relative to the planet, while the Korhal fleet, such as it is, will engage them from the planet's orbit."

"Battlecruisers can take a beating," said Kerrigan. "How much damage do you think you can do? And how are we going to deal with cloaked Wraiths?"

"The Wraiths are a problem," admitted the Magistrate. "We'll have to make what use of the comsat station here in the colony. Our goal is to bring Alpha Squadron low and capture Duke quickly."

"The initial barrage should cause an immense amount of damage," said Victus. "The _Destiny Ascension_, for all its faults, proved that the main guns of our dreadnought can quickly render your cruisers nonfunctional. The element of surprise is a powerful one, and your General Duke has not inspired much confidence in regards to tactical acumen and flexibility."

"He ain't ours," said Jim. "Pretty sure he's just a shaved ape. But yeah, I'll agree with you on that. You got orders for those of us stayin' groundside?"

"Maintain the security of the colony," said Mengsk, "and be ready for pickup and assault. After the initial barrage, the other two fleets will make a quick FTL jump out of range while my own fleet continues to engage. After this goes predictably badly for us, we shall stage our own retreat and leave the rest to the ion cannon as Alpha Squadron begins pursuit. Once the _Norad II _is disabled, you are to join a strike force that will be assaulting the ship directly. Press to the bridge, and take Duke. Do NOT execute him. He has information we can use."

"If you say so," said Jim. "But just say the word, and I'll take care of him."

Mengsk and Victus took their leave then, leaving the Magistrate. He shot Jim a tired glance when the others left, the light of the planet's display shining in his eyes.

"I need you two to introduce these fine asari and turians to the colony," said the Magistrate, gesturing to the expressionless alien soldiers that had watched the proceedings without a hint of interest or recognition. "Also, notify everyone of the orbital bombardment. Make sure they know our alien friends are just eliminating military targets. Wish me luck. I'll be with the Korhal fleet, helping direct the few Wraiths we have."

"Just where did you learn all this shit, Commander?" asked Jim. _Something I've been meaning to get to the bottom of for a while._ "It's one thing to have a military background, plenty of folks back on Mar Sara had that. But you've given the Sons access to military channels, intel, and they're puttin' you in charge of battle plans. You the second son of some Old Family bureaucrat?"

The Magistrate chuckled at that, bringing a bit of life back to his gray face. "Just… just an old spec ops, Raynor. Nothing quite so interesting. I was the oldest in my little band of soldiers, so I was the first to retire. I'm still quite close with some of them. You saw one on a screen back on Mar Sara, Oleg Petrohvsky."

"I remember," said Jim, casting a sideways glance at Sarah. "I bet you could tell me all his history, darlin'."

"Some of it," said Sarah, giving a small smile. "He's had some training. I can see just enough to know that his team was something to be feared back in the Guild Wars."

"Alright," said Jim, nodding. "I'll take your word for it. We ought to sit down and have a drink some time, Commander. Swap some war stories."

"Maybe," said the Magistrate, raising a hand and moving backwards. "I have a ship to catch, however. Perhaps, once the battle is over. Best of luck, Captain, Lieutenant."

Jim and Sarah looked to the many aliens they had been left with.

"Alright then," said Jim. "Let's bring ya'll out and see if we can't make these colonists love you."

Jim left the command center trailed by twenty odd turians and asari, some of whom displayed slight hints of nervousness as they marched into the streets of the terran colony. Kerrigan, meanwhile, had taken control of the colony's loudspeakers and announced the procession of the aliens.

"They are people, they are allies," said Kerrigan. "They are here to topple the Confederacy for the betterment of the terran race. In ten minutes, they will also be beginning orbital bombardment against the remaining Confederate military centers on the planet. I want everyone possible to take a good long look at the faces of these aliens. Ask them questions, get to know them. They can understand you, and they are here to help."

Jim, for his part, wished some of these aliens hadn't introduced to the masses of humanity the way they were. Bodies were still being dragged off the streets as they came through, the signs of recent carnage still all too evident. Nevertheless, he was pleased to see Antigan marines salute the aliens as they went by, to see a group of teenagers following the asari and asking all kinds of questions, and to hear raucous cheering as they emerged in the middle of the main plaza.

_See? Not too scary._ Jim looked back at the alien soldiers. _Okay, the turians are a little scary. The asari make up for it, though._

The orbital bombardment commenced while they were still in the square. People turned and pointed as the skies lit up, and sounds like distant thunder echoed through the still air. The barrage continued for several minutes, and when Jim left the plaza to get a better look from the edge of the city, the horizon had turned into a dull orange. _Huh. I hope they didn't suffer._ Several other colonists had gathered at the edge of the mesa as well, muttering about "alien interference."

"Go to the main plaza," said Jim. "We've got aliens there, shakin' hands with people. They ain't here to conquer. I don't know about you, but I'm quite happy about not havin' to try and take down a camp of angry Confederates."

Jim returned to the asari and turians and was quite pleased to see Horner and Saren had shown up, covered in dust and shaking hands with Antigans. He waved them down.

"Op was a success, obviously," said Jim. "Glad you two could make it. Now we just need Duke to show up."

"They kicked the Confederacy out," said Horner, admiration creeping into his tone. "We barely had to help them! That'll teach those bastards about stepping all over the innocent."

"Right," said Jim, "because the Antigans are all about not harmin' the innocent."

"Uh, alright," said Horner. "Something I don't know about, Captain?"

"There were some civilian casualties that could have been avoided," said Jim. "That's all I'm going to say. Saren, you get invited along to raidin' the _Norad II?_"

"Duke's ship? Yes," said Saren. "Apparently my performance on that science vessel did not go unappreciated. Taking an entire vessel should be… exhilarating."

"Captain Raynor, report to the command center," said Kerrigan over the loudspeakers. "The alien meet and greet can take care of itself, and we've got preparations to make."

"See ya," said Jim, giving a brief salute to his comrades in arms before rushing back to the command center. Kerrigan was waiting for him at the entrance, ushering him in.

"Alpha Squadron's due to arrive in the next twenty hours or so," said Kerrigan. "Both Mengsk and Harper are sure of it. They can't leave any planet under "alien" control for too long. We've got the firing mechanism in place – the ion cannon's ready."

"Good," said Jim. "Out of curiosity, since I ain't seen it, where is the ion cannon?"

"Northwest corner of the mesa, hidden under a huge steel blast door," said Sarah, motioning Jim to follow. "The Confederacy was pretty keen to keep it hidden from us. It almost worked. Victus reports total destruction of the Confederate camps on the planet."

"Yeah," said Jim, thinking of the orange glow. "I kinda figured that."

"So now we wait," said Kerrigan, reaching the command center's heart and sitting in a chair, a leg on one of the armrests. "You looking forward to seeing Duke again?"

"Assumin' this works?" asked Jim. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

The hours crept by. The Antigan colony quickly returned to a sense of normalcy, though the threat of imminent attack left the air heavy with anxiety. Captain Farnham checked in, reporting that the structural damage caused by the brief revolution had been repaired, and that the colony had begun preparations for producing materiel for the Sons.

"A few adjustments and we'll have the capabilities for putting out siege tanks," said Farnham. "I'm sure the Sons will have plenty of use for those, right?"

Saren arrived at the command center as well, though Matt had to wait in his dropship "to be ready for Alpha Squadron." _Can't be fun, but we're gonna need him to get us up to the Norad II at a moment's notice._ Saren gave a perfunctory greeting to Jim before spending an hour rechecking his barriers, weapon, and armor. _Professional._ Jim decided to spend his own time trying to do something productive and found Horner's dropship and put his armor back on.

"You alright back here, Matt?" asked Jim, causing Matt to turn to face him from the pilot's seat, still clad in his flight gear.

"Anxious and bored at the same time, Captain," he said. "On the one hand, I'll be flying to one of the largest, best equipped ships in the Sector at… well, any time. On the other hand, there's nothing to do except wait."

"Just hold on," said Jim, grinning as he flexed his fingers inside the suit, watching the powered gloves matching his movements. "Everything's gonna be alright." _No need to panic the pilot before he makes what could be the most dangerous flight of his life._

Jim returned to the command center. Sarah was checking her weapons and checking in with the captain while Saren sat in a chair with his eyes shut, apparently intent on his headset.

Jim tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, man. Got some books on tape or somethin'?"

Saren shook his head, taking off the headset. "Listening in on Third Fleet's preparations for the conflict. I find it therapeutic to hear my people's voices, and know that they're ready for battle."

"Really? Can I listen in for a second?" Jim extended a hand. Saren looked hesitant for a moment, and then gave Jim the headset. It looked tiny in Jim's armored hand, and he had to ask Saren to help lift it to his ear without breaking it. It wouldn't fit Jim's head (and Jim felt stupid afterward for trying) but Saren did manage to put one speaker against his ear.

"_Justice _reporting, barriers at full, we are fully loaded and scanning for targets."

"Ground scans at Confederate wreckage show no signs of life. Safe to estimate 100% enemy casualties at designated bombardment zones. Continuing sector sweep."

"Opposing force will have access to full spectrum cloaking and will likely close distance to one of our fleets. All targeting systems will be ineffectual. Advise."

The chatter went on, Jim's ear filling with the businesslike tones of turian sailors. Saren lowered the headset and Jim shook his head in disbelief. "That shit's relaxin' to you?"

"They're prepared," said Saren simply. "After my time on Mar Sara, I'll take all the time I can to spend with my people."

"Yeah," said Jim, thinking back to folks on Mar Sara that he wouldn't be seeing again thanks to the zerg. _Maybe Buck, someday. Jenny's probably gonna be sent on to the Hyperion, hope she survives. Allen, though... Dammit. _

Jim started as alarms blared and red lights flashed in the command center. Sarah had leapt from the table where she was working on her gun and lunged toward the planetary display. Small red circles flared between the asari and turian fleets, and Jim was dismayed to see that more kept leaping in even as the initial shock wore off. _Aw, hell. Tarsonis must have given them reinforcements._

"Attention Antiga Prime," Sarah was saying into a microphone. Jim could hear her voice faintly echoing back from outside the command center. "Alpha Squadron is here, repeat, General Duke is here to play. All civilians are to remain indoors and we need that ion cannon prepped and ready. All militia members, just stay ready. If the fighting gets close, they might drop some pods. You just booted these guys out, I'm sure you don't want them back." She leaned back from the microphone with a hiss, looking back to Jim with sweat dripping from her forehead. "They brought more ships than I expected, Jim."

"Yeah," said Jim, head turning from the display to Saren, whose eyes were open and staring fiercely into empty space as he listened to his people. "Is there any kind of channel we can listen in on, darlin'?"

"204.7," said Sarah, "you can patch in on your suit. I know I am. They're going to need comsat."

Jim, still watching the display, winked his way through the suit's several prompts until he got to that frequency. He didn't like what he was hearing.

"Three science vessels?" the Magistrate was saying incredulously. "Dammit. Makes sense. They're blunting the dreadnoughts with those defensive matrices. Victus, Benezia, focus on those large unarmed vessels and ignore targets with unusual energy signatures. Those matrices will not be broken easily. Kerrigan, we need comsat at these coordinates; they're gunning for the asari."

Kerrigan nodded to herself and yelled to an aide to get a comsat sweep going. The colonist was commendably quick, making Jim wonder if she was ex-military herself. _Huh. Still considerin' myself ex-military. _Jim looked down at the bottom of the helmet portion of the suit._ Probably not all that accurate anymore. How'd I get back into this?_

"Benezia reporting good effect on those Wraith attack wings," said the Magistrate. "But that's not going to last too long, they're backing up and these scans don't last forever. Good damage on their ships. They- they're targeting _Hyperion_. Goddamn it! Kerrigan, is that ion cannon ready? They're pressing for the planet – I think they're gunning for Mengsk!"

_Great._ Kerrigan put a hand on her headset. "I need that ion cannon prepped! They're going for it!"

In his seat, Saren cursed. Jim quickly found out why.

"Dammit… about a third of the turian fleet just went dead – localized EMP at their location. Science vessels – they look so innocuous on paper. Their electronics aren't completely fried, but they're drifting dead until something's done. Asari fleet's backing up. Time to spring that trap."

_Shit. Either they put someone smarter than Duke in charge, or maybe a shaved ape can learn new tricks._

"Repositioning Hyperion," said the Magistrate. Jim strained to see where on the readout they'd be, but it had all become enormously cluttered from the battle. "Alright, we're feigning - well, perhaps not entirely feigning - a full retreat. Comsat at these coordinates, Wraith presence is extensive. We need to take Duke down ASAP."

"Really hopin' they don't know about the ion cannon," said Jim as Kerrigan had the tech run comsat again. "Failin' that, that Antiga Prime's under Sons control."

The blips on the readout that were asari faded away as they jumped. The turians, however, were apparently unwilling to leave their disabled comrades. _Understandable._

"Victus, they're backing out of your range, you either need to shift to a better position or get out of there!" yelled the Magistrate. "What? No, General, you can't-"

The Magistrate was cut off in a haze of static, and the turian blips vanished. Saren swore, leaping to his feet.

"They just performed a short range jump into the middle of the Confederate fleet," he said. "We need this over, now."

"Commander," said Jim, "Saren's getting agitated, and I'm kinda with him. Those bastards in range of the ion cannon?"

"Negative!" said the Magistrate, now sounding enraged. "Feel free to tell Saren that his people don't know when to fucking retreat! Victus has taken advantage of their ships' lack of maneuverability and gotten some good hits in, but those Wraiths are not letting up, and we can't recall the asari. We're going in, and I'm ordering all assault teams to hit _Norad II._ Comsat at the clusterfuck! You feeling up for a suicide mission, Raynor?"

"Saddle up!" said Jim, motioning to Saren and Kerrigan. "Let's end this! Horner's waitin'." Heart racing in his chest, Jim's feet thudded first into the command center's steel floors, and then the concrete of the colony. Kerrigan first kept pace with Jim, and then sped faster than him – a feat, considering he was in his suit – and a mixed group of asari and turians were following behind. Matt Horner waved them into his dropship, which was already active and creating quite the updraft. He was practically jumping up and down in excitement, an obvious sheen of sweat visible beneath visor of his pilot's helmet.

"It's time!" he kept saying, over and over. "It's time! It's time!"

Jim and the others strapped in, the asari looking especially small next to Jim's enormous frame.

"Got a mixed unit, huh?" he said to Sarah, who had seated herself next to him. "You, me, and Horner; the only terrans. You asari kick as much ass as Kerrigan says?"

The three asari, clad in black commando uniforms, looked at each other. "You ever seen biotics in action, kid?"

"Kid?" Jim laughed. "Darlin' I'm lookin' at your pretty little face and callin' you-"

"Two-hundred and sixteen?" said the asari, her tone sweet. "That's flattering, sweetie, but I'm a ways past that."

Jim looked to Sarah, who just smiled at him. "She's not a liar, Jim."

"Huh," said Jim, his stomach involuntarily clenching as the dropship began to lift off. "Guess I got a lot to learn."

"I'll show you some things," said the asari, flashing him a white smile, "we live through this, I'll buy you a drink. You _are_ old enough to drink, right?"

Across from Jim, Saren laughed at his confusion. As they lifted into the atmosphere, the laughter stopped. All Jim could think about was the sheer number of ships moving about the place on the readout. Sure enough, the dropship began to shake violently as the air got a little colder.

"So, this is a little tougher than I expected!" said Horner from the cockpit, voice shaking. "There's weapons fire coming from everywhere, and those ships are _way_ closer than they should be! I've got a lock on our coordinates, and the other dropships are going in fast, but we're not going to have an exit until you've got Duke locked down! You've met the man, Jim, you think he'll give up if you've got a gun to his head?"

"Uh," Jim said, thinking as the dropship rattled and he watched Saren close his eyes and start muttering to himself. "Maybe?"

"Great," said Horner. "We'll be there in two, if our luck holds out! Hold on, and pray!"

Jim patched into the assault frequency he had used back on Halcyon. Hearing the voices of other people he'd be walking into hell with helped, particularly as there seemed to be quite a few of them.

"Beats fighting the protoss," said a turian into the frequency. "I can't imagine getting through into one of their ships."

"Enough chatter," said Kerrigan, who had apparently patched in as well. "Keep this frequency clear. We're going to be ass-deep in marines in a minute, focus on that. Follow the lead of the terrans in your group, we know the straight shot to the bridge. Do NOT kill Duke. Good luck everyone. See you there." The dropship rocked again. _Hopefully._

"Thirty seconds!" said Horner. "You ready?"

Jim hefted his gun. _We're comin' for you Dukie._ His squad consisted of himself, Saren, Kerrigan, two angry looking turians, and the three sassy asari. Despite his stomach feeling like it was full of worms, he was eager to see the asari in action. _Kerrigan talked 'em up. Hope they're good._

There was a sudden spurt of speed, and Jim found himself partially pinned to the wall by the forces of gravity. In the pilot's seat, Jim could hear Matt chattering to himself at high speeds before, with a shriek of metal and a sickening lurch that felt like it nearly wrenched Jim's head free from his body, the dropship stopped moving.

"Out! Out! Out! This is it!" yelled Horner, the back of the dropship opening with a hiss. The turians filed out, shouting to each other, while the asari hefted the modified terran rifles and moved with surprising grace out of the ship, followed closely by Jim, Kerrigan and Saren.

The hangar was strewn with the smoking, recently-arrived Korhal dropships, their occupants finding cover wherever they could. Confederate hangar personnel were running, shrieking from the intrusion, while the handful of Confederate marines present fired, full automatic. Jim triggered the stimpack.

With a wordless scream, he leveled his gun to his shoulder and fired in short bursts at the opposition, attracting their swift attention. A round pinged off his shoulder, and Jim growled, his jittery fingers squeezing the trigger again and again.

He took cover behind a nearby dropship, watching asari glowing blue and making strange, sudden hand motions. Jim didn't remember what that meant until he saw a Confederate marine twitching in the air, suspended by unseen forces. Jim just grunted and emptied a short burst into the idiot, not even sure if he was already dead or not. He reloaded a mag, listening in on the chatter.

"Keep pushing forward! Follow me – small terran woman, red hair! I'll clear the way!"

_Oh, darlin', I want to see this._

Jim peered around the charred side of the dropship in time to see Kerrigan materialize behind two marines, aiming at where the back of their heads were, and pulling the trigger twice. They fell in a heap.

"Turians and marines, front, with me. By the numbers, shoulder to shoulder, clean sweep. Kill _anyone_, I repeat, _anyone_ in your way. Asari, spread out and follow in the back. Use singularities to keep our sixes clear – we need to clear a path quick, and we CANNOT be flanked. Move, dammit, we win this here!" Kerrigan rushed to the hangar exit, not waiting for anyone else. Through the haze of red and the torrent of stimmed up blood, Jim found time to admire Kerrigan as she took charge. _If the Sons take control, it'll be because we had people like her, and the Confederacy didn't._

Jim took the front alongside Saren. He and his turians were stuck with modified semi-automatic weapons, the same one Kerrigan was using. _AGR-14, I think._ Jim could barely think straight. Kerrigan cloaked and pushed up, ordering the rest to follow.

The corridors of _Norad II_ were cramped and had been vacated in a hurry. The reason why became clear, as the marines aboard the vessel had set up small blockades, using over turned crates. They were not ready for a cloaked Kerrigan, whose gunshots killed two, and made the rest turn their backs. This proved a fatal mistake. Jim's gun shuddered in his hands, and even when it ran dry during his ceaseless advance, the turian's aim mopped up what he missed. All the while, they advanced, even reloading on the move.

"Singularities behind!" called out an asari, and Jim saw several loose objects get sucked backward as the corridors turned a faint hue of blue. He didn't look behind him.

The next blockade ended much the same way, and Jim could hear, ever so faintly above the rush of blood in his ears, the sounds of Duke calling out to his troops. He didn't sound happy. Or calm. _I'm gunnin' for you, you Confederate piece of shit._

"Keep advancing!" said Kerrigan, breathless. She had slid down glowing green goggles, making her appearance seem alien. "Another singularity! Running out of cloak. Jim, take point, you know cruisers!"

Jim was only too happy to oblige her. He charged through the corridors, visor down. _An image of death._ Stairs did not slow him. Technicians, screaming and waving their sidearms, did not slow him, and he did not hesitate. For the next blockade, he let Saren pick off a marine with his rifle before moving in, applying another stimpack as he took a round in the side and felt his suit applying painkillers and auto-bandages. _Gonna need that checked out. _It didn't matter, they were close.

The doors to the bridge were sealed, unsurprisingly. Jim actually found it hard to slow down, even when he looked at the floor and saw his own blood dripping through parts of his suit. There was only the rush, and the hatred, and the anger. _So close. C'mon._

Kerrigan took one look at the blast doors and laughed. She loaded a lockdown round, aimed, and fired. The door crackled and slid open with a hiss, leaving the much more vulnerable bridge doors exposed.

Leaning against the wall next to the doors, Jim looked back and saw one of the singularities Kerrigan had mentioned – a glowing _orb_ that had lifted three marines and left them drifting. Asari commandos had already drilled them repeatedly in the chest, leaving no danger. He felt his breathing slow.

Kerrigan applied charges to the door.

"This is the hard bit, folks. Jim, try to take fewer risks. I'm going to subdue Duke – do NOT touch him." Kerrigan took the other side of the doors. "Kill everyone on the bridge and then slam a singularity on the door. We're down a few people, so play it as safely as you can. Charges set, cloaking. Three, two, one-"

Jim stimmed again, feeling the pressure against his neck. He sighed as the world seemed to go into slow motion. Kerrigan disappeared in a shimmer of glory. Rounds slammed into the air around her, somehow leaving her untouched. A marine, Jim didn't know him, charged through the door only to be shredded in a shower of bullets. Jim, his breaths slow and even, watched four turians, Saren included, lay down fire, heard them reporting kills. Jim saw the opening at the same time the asari dead, leaping through the smoke and the confusion.

The bridge was large and spacious. Jim had a crazy thought about the high quality of the room before another round slammed into his left arm. His right held on to the gun and he fired, the stock leveled against his hip. Using a combination of leverage, the suit's strengths, and the drugs, Jim fired continuously in bursts at the faces of the marines. They collapsed, and Jim sighed.

The turians had moved up behind him, establishing cover. A grenade went off to his right, scorching his armor and making his arm blaze with pain. He could see the viewports, far past the chaos, the many ships dancing in the light and void. He staggered forward, dropping his weapon, only to rip his enormous sidearm from the holster. A bridge crewmember had almost sneaked past him, explosive in hand. His ribcage exploded as Jim's round tore into him. He gasped as the red and black spread under him. Jim found himself shoved forward, away from the door. He turned, saw Jenny's pink armor, and past that another singularity. The fighting had stopped. Jim hurt, all over.

"Yep, stimmed to the gills," said Jenny. "Had to keep charging somehow." She was limping, but still managed to bring Jim to his feet and force him forward.

Kerrigan was sitting on Duke, knees on his arms, a pistol pointed at his face. Duke, sweaty, red-faced, and bloodstained, was struggling and spitting, trying to break free.

Jim opened his visor, teeth bared. When Duke saw him, he laughed.

"Well, damn! I knew you yokels were dumb, but I didn't figure suicidal! Ya'll signed up with aliens? You tryin' to bring about the end of the human race, boy?"

"They didn't abandon us, asshole," said Jim, licking his lip only to taste metal. _I… think I need a doctor._ When he looked around, it was to see that most of the people with him did.

"Keep that singularity up!" yelled Kerrigan at a nearby bleeding asari, who nodded with an exhausted look on her face.

"Ya'll know you've lost, right?" Duke said, tone casual, despite the gun leveled to his head. "Hell of a thing, breaking through the line like this, them blue aliens have some worthwhile skills. But you're all torn up. Even the leader yokel's bleedin' like a stuck pig. And this battle's turnin' in my fav-"

"The asari fleet will be back any second, General," said Kerrigan. "Antiga Prime is ours. The Confederacy is falling to pieces around you, and you've got a gun to your head. Do you think the situation is under control? Saren, keep your rifle on him while I contact the Magistrate and Mengsk. We don't have much time."

Duke laughed again, this time sounding strained. "Go ahead, girlie. Confederacy's got special plans for you. Ghosts like you are few and far between, from what I heard. They're gonna mess with your gray matter 'till there ain't a hint of you left."

Jim felt a surge of anger at this and started forward, but only fell to his knees. Duke gave him a smile.

"You don't look so good, boy," he said. "Why don't you just take a lie down? My boys will be here soon enough. They'll tuck you in nice and tight."

Kerrigan came back holding a device from which a glowing version of Mengsk's head emerged. It looked down on Duke with what was clearly an expression of amusement.

"General Edmund Duke. We meet again."

"A pleasure," spat Duke, keeping an eye on Saren's rifle, which was trained on his forehead and followed his every movement. "I see you done well for yourself. You here to get me to surrender?"

"Surrender?" said Mengsk, sounding offended. "General, I'm here to make an offer. I've been recruiting the best and brightest to my cause for quite some time now, and there is a definite deficit of trained military men. I'd say you fit the bill – and this is an optimal time for you to d-"

"Defect?" Duke barked out some more forced laughter, which turned into coughing. Jim felt a slight pang as another singularity was thrown up near the entrance. He could hear shouting. _They ain't gonna storm the room until they figure they can do so without killing Duke. Shit. We need him alive. _"I'm a general, for Christ's sake. I served this Confederacy for decades – and I don't mean for it to go wasted. What could you possibly offer me?"

Mengsk smiled. Jim heard more yells, this time some of them coming from the equipment nearby.

"That would be my third fleet," said Mengsk. "They're inbound. So firstly, I can offer you life, as crude as that is. But mostly, I can offer you a place of honor as _my_ general, a general on the winning side. Do you feel the Confederacy has handled the zerg well? Have they handled my little rebellion? They're losing ground with every passing moment, to forces that they do not understand. If you join me, I promise you glory, I promise you an army, I promise you _victory._ Can the Confederacy do that for you?"

"Don't…" gasped Jim. "Don't trust him, man. He's a… damn snake."

"Well, if the yokel don't want me to do it, it must be a good idea," said Duke, licking his lips. Jim took a shuddering breath but was unable to retort. Lights were flashing past his eyes, and strong hands were lowering him to the ground. "Well… hell. Can't say the Confederacy has been doin' well these last few months. How many ships these aliens of yours got?"

"More than enough to conquer this Sector and wipe out the Confederacy, even if I fell," said Mengsk smoothly. It was all starting to get fuzzy, though Jim desperately clung to consciousness.

There was a pause.

"Boys," said Duke loudly, "this is General Duke. Cease fire. Cease fire, dammit. I said, HOLD!" Jim could see Mengsk's face out of the corner of his eye. He saw him staring down at Duke, giving the man a wide smile. "Alright, you silver-tongued devil. I'm your man. Now, girlie, help me up. I'm part of your little outfit now."

"No…" muttered Jim. "This ain't… what I signed up for."

"No one signs up to get shot, Jim," said Jenny, her bloody face looming in his face. "Hold on, the medics are inbound. You'll be alright, Jim. Just hold on…"

The last thing Jim saw was Duke, bloodied yet unbowed, a smirk on his face.

"Told you to lie down, boy. Lookin' forward to workin' with me?"

Jim tried to force out a retort, but instead it all went dark.


	22. Overmind

**Tassadar**

Tassadar took a look at the shadowy figures around him and gave an involuntary shudder as cool hands touched him, as gentle yet sinister whispers filled his mind with images of a planet where the sun never rose.

The Dark Templar covered him in a strange, velvety darkness, causing Tassadar to shiver as his body cooled. They departed shortly afterward, beckoning. Tassadar followed them for quite some distance, making sure his feet never touched the soil all the way, a display of power that the Dark Templar had found amusing. The Dark Templar themselves loped through the wastes as if they were born to it, exchanging not a word to each other as they went. Tassadar reached out for their minds and found only a dead, unyielding sensation. They were not part of the Khala, but they were strong enough to hold back any cursory attempt – and he knew it would be madness to push any further.

The Nerazim's camp was tucked underneath a small alcove beneath a jutting piece of rock. A few strips of leather and a small number of rudimentary tools were all that marked the area as a site of habitation. As soon as they arrived, the Dark Templar dispersed without a word, leaving Tassadar alone with Zeratul.

"Do you find walking in the ashes discomfiting?" asked Zertaul, staring up at Tassadar as he floated in place. "Your display of strength means nothing, Templar, when we know already how easy it is to thwart. And remember this: those who elevate themselves are destined to become targets."

"What do you know of being a Templar?" snapped Tassadar. "I remain above the soil for it is my identity as an Executor. It demonstrates my greater understanding of the Khala, my ability to wield psionic energies."

Zeratul radiated amusement at this. "Indeed? But who is present that would respect your position? The zerg, perhaps? Exerting yourself for such petty reasons will certainly not win our respect. But as you said, I know nothing of being a Templar. Continue as you were, Executor. I have a few tasks to attend to."

Zeratul left then, vanishing into smoke. Tassadar moved into the alcove, feeling slightly foolish as the heretics paid him no mind. Two were working with a few tools, tinkering with their psi blades. Others were arranging what Tassadar recognized as hydralisk skulls, though some of them looked much larger than normal.

"There are bigger zerg out here in the wastes, then?" asked Tassadar. "I cannot remember ever encountering hydralisks of that size."

"Hunter killers," said a smaller Nerazim, turning to Tassadar with his eyes that were bright despite his dark nature. He gazed at Tassadar with interest. "Part of a brood that departed several days ago. Would that we know where they had gone – we had marked their Cerebrate for death."

"Is that so?" asked Tassadar. "How have you discovered so much about the zerg, young one? The Templar have conducted numerous tests on zerg tissue, but are still much in the dark regarding their greater biology."

"We have watched from the shadows," said the small Nerazim. "We have gathered intelligence firsthand. And the zerg wield energies similar to our own – making it easier to find consistencies."

"They are almost similar to you, Templar," spat the larger of the two. "A clear hierarchy. A number of malevolent, unchanging overlords that let their supposed "lessers" fight for them. A racial gestalt. Perhaps the zerg were what the xel'naga originally had in mind for-"

Tassadar's psionics flared. Energy coursed through his body as he stared down the Nerazim, who glared back without fear, a bright green blade sliding from his wrist.

"Come, mighty Executor," sneered the Nerazim as his companion backed away from the display. "The Prelate has already made a fool of you. I am eager to follow his example."

A strong hand caught Tassadar on the shoulder and forced him down, hard. A strange cold filled his being, causing his energy to ebb and fade away, like a trickle of blood emptied into a river. He looked up to see Zeratul's disapproving face.

"Pathetic, both of you." Tassadar was thrown to the side as curses filled the cavern. The unmistakable sounds of psi blades meeting shields followed shortly thereafter. When Tassadar pulled himself into a sitting position, it was to find Zeratul pinning his verbal assailant to the ground, a blade at his throat. "Do such petty insults make you feel clever, Selak? Our exile from Aiur already proved that the Khalai have easily wounded prides and fearsome tempers. What were you hoping to prove by goading him?"

"A worthy kill," said Selak in pained tones. "Vengeance for the homeworld we lost."

"If we cannot look past our history and accept the Khalai, then it is unlikely that homeworld will ever be reclaimed," said Zeratul "I expected more from such a seasoned hunter. And _you…_" Tassadar was astounded to find himself feeling both guilty and afraid as the Prelate turned on him. "Are all Executors of the Khalai so quick to anger, so blind to reason? We have saved you from your own folly, hidden you from the zerg, and promised yet further assistance, but as soon as one of my pack insults you, you see fit to resort to violence?"

"It is the way of the Templar," said Tassadar, trying to keep any uncertainty out of his thoughts. "We strike down our foes in a blaze of hatred and glory. But we are _not_ zerg."

"No," said Zeratul. "No, you are not. I will confess I see a few similarities, but I suppose it was inevitable, if the xel'naga had a hand in our species' evolution. Did that discovery dishearten you, Templar?"

Tassadar did not reply. Zeratul cocked his head at him before removing the blade and helping Selak up.

"Warriors of the Nerazim, and proud guest of Aiur, hear me," said Zeratul. "The Zerg Swarm is on the move, in search of any survivors of Tassadar's fleet. This location should be safe, for now – I have left a few marks at other sites that should lead the zerg in a different direction. However, a flare of psionic energy-" Zeratul looked pointedly at Tassadar as he said this, "would draw them upon us as Bengalaas to a bloodied corpse. If Tassadar is critically wounded, his suit will try to take him to the nearest cybernetics center. There are none on Char, and he will die painfully. However, that flare will attract the zerg, and I do not think we will be able to escape easily. And if you lash out, Executor…"

"I doom all of us," said Tassadar, pushing himself to his feet, only to enter a kneeling position before Zeratul. "I beseech your forgiveness, dark one. I have acted rashly, and almost delivered us to the zerg." _It is one thing to strike down a heretic that compares me to the zerg, it is another to inadvertently doom a whole pack of them to the Swarm's clutches. Such carelessness is unbecoming._

The various Dark Templar looked to each other at this, one or two giving a low chuckle. Tassadar had to resist reeling in disgust. _By mutilating their psi-appendages not only are they devoid of the Khala, but they are forced to vocalize like the terrans. Who would willingly cripple themselves in such a fashion?_

"True humility, coming from one of the Khalai," mused Zeratul. "I thank you, Executor. It is something I have longed to see for quite some time. You are forgiven, for now. But if you threaten the safety of my people again, I will deliver you to the Void myself."

"Acceptable," said Tassadar, rising. _I do not doubt that he could do that._ He was beginning to feel a very real sense of age coming from the Prelate. _He may very well have three or four centuries on me._ Tassadar noticed that when Zeratul moved, he made no noise, and it almost looked like the ground was moving around him rather than him moving across the ground.

"Continue your duties," said Zeratul to the other Nerazim before beckoning for Tassadar to follow. Tassadar began to move, realized his feet were touching the soil, and decided not to make an issue of it. _It is a small matter, and my feet have pounded the earth many times as I lunged into battle when I was younger. And before this Prelate, I may as well be young again._

The two of them walked across the ash, Tassadar competently retaining his footing on the burning ground, but looking disgustingly clumsy in comparison to Zeratul's fluid motions.

"You are aware of the Cerebrates," said Zeratul after a while, his voice a harsh whisper in the dark. "You are awaretheir role within the zerg. Your strategy was on the cusp of being effective – you maintained an extreme range, used an extensive amount of firepower, and moved quickly. It is a pity that you picked the one foe who would never fall to you."

"Is that so?" asked Tassadar, trying to check his temper. "It seems to me that nothing of this universe could have survived such a barrage – yet you make claims about possessing some greater power?"

"If I were to drive my warp blade through all three of your hearts, would you die, Tassadar?" asked Zeratul calmly.

"I would go to the Khala," said Tassadar, stopping and stiffening, feeling cold all over. "I would not die, truly. I would go to my people."

"The Overmind offers a similar, if more twisted power over his lieutenants," said Zeratul, not even turning to look at Tassadar, but instead gazing off into Char's smoky horizon. "Just as you are saved from true death by the Khala, Its power over the Void and Its link with the Cerebrates allows It to renew their flesh within an instant. They are functionally immortal. If you had reduced this planet to slag, not that I believe the Overmind would have let you, the Cerebrates would have remained, dying and reanimating continuously among Char's ruin until the Overmind intervened further."

"And yet you claim to have the means of ending the lives of these foul creatures," said Tassadar, incredulous. "Have you and your brethren mastered some aspect of the cosmos that we have overlooked?"

"We have mastered an entire philosophy you have overlooked," said Zeratul, turning back to Tassadar and looking him up and down before gingerly touching his own mutilated psi appendages. "But to be sure, it came at the permanent cost of being able to master yours. Considering the accomplishments of both our people's, I would say that they both have merit."

"You disfigured yourselves and turned away from the Khala," said Tassadar. "While it would seem that you possess abilities that I do not understand, they likely stem from the desperation of exile rather than enlightenment."

Zeratul laughed at this. "Bold words, Executor. But if that were so, if our understanding of the Void stemmed simply from necessity rather than deliberate study and it were indeed a weaker, malformed version of the Khala, it would not explain the Overmind's fondness for its energies. For you see, the zerg make heavy use of the Void, and it is through understanding these energies that we are able to undo them."

_A convenient explanation. And if it is true, then Selak had quite some nerve comparing _me_ to the zerg._

"I will believe it when I see it," said Tassadar. "Have you yet slain one of these Cerebrates?"

"No," said Zeratul, checking the warp blade on his wrist. "With time, and with your assistance, we shall. Let us return to camp. I think we will have much to teach each other."

Tassadar was not sure what kind of questions Zeratul had for him, but he was pleased that he might be able to teach the old heretic something new.

The next few days alternated between baffling and enraging. Tassadar was unaccustomed to being cut off from his brethren, and he could not even feel them through the Khala.

"The Overmind's presence prohibits casual contact," said Zeratul. "With an active effort, you would likely be able to push through, but it would bring much unwanted attention. Be not afraid, young Templar. Solitude and silence has its place, one that the Khalai have long forgotten.

The Nerazim, for their part, did not seem perturbed about remaining on a zerg infested world so far from home. When Tassadar asked about their new homeworld and society, Zeratul refused to say much.

"They are far from here," he said, "and do not know of our current location. We are a scattered people, and we go where we please. Our own ships are not far from here, hidden, so we may return to our homes when the time comes. Our Matriarch knows we are on the hunt, and thinks no more of it."

Some of the Nerazim at the camp were curious about Tassadar, asking him questions about the make of his armor, the state of Aiur, the worlds he had fought on. Others, like Selak and Ulrezaj, made sure to keep their distance and rarely spoke in Tassadar's hearing.

The zerg were omnipresent, yet strangely distant. Zeratul explained that the soil around them was rotten, used up by the now absent brood that had departed some time ago. The earth beneath them was riddled with tunnels, but they too went unused.

"There are few patches on Char that the zerg have found little use for," said Zeratul. "But nowadays, this is one of them. Even so, it is only through the Void that we evade detection. If you huddled here alone, Tassadar, your end would be swift."

The training Tassadar underwent was frustrating and tiresome for what Tassadar felt were all the wrong reasons. His own training as a Templar had been frought with difficulty – the physical exertion had felt at times as if it would break his body in half, the meditative practices made his mind slowly but surely feel like his brain was dying of boredom, and the many texts he had to study were no more interesting. But he had known there was a point to it all. There was a definite end goal – to become a warrior of the Templar caste, to embody the strength and rage of his people in all their glory. Here, even Zeratul admitted the end result of the training would be nebulous.

"You must understand that this is not about power," said Zeratul as he and Tassadar trudged the wastes for the first test. "In some ways, this is not even about knowledge. It is about perspective. You Templar are so eager to rush headlong into battle, certain of your own superiority and victory. Now that you have met the zerg, you must acknowledge the flaws in that strategy. So I ask you, under the cover of our gift of darkness, to watch the zerg and learn of your foe."

Zeratul had left a veiled Tassadar on a mesa overlooking a small hive cluster. He was instructed not to move beyond a small cairn that Zeratul had set up, and to watch the hive cluster develop.

"When you can explain the zerg life cycle satisfactorily, return to camp," said Zeratul "I will ask questions. Try to hide your skepticism, Templar. It is one thing to wield our powers. It is another to understand their purpose. How effective of a warrior would you have been if you had simply been handed the training and discipline without knowing what you were fighting for?"

Tassadar could not dismiss that line of reasoning, but nevertheless grew to hate that little hive cluster with a passion that surpassed nearly anything he had felt before.

When first he began his observations, it consisted only of the hatchery and a few drones. The Hatchery consisted of tubes that would periodically spit out a disgusting little larva that would creep about aimlessly. The drones, meanwhile, worked tirelessly to pry minerals from Char before depositing them in the hatchery. This continued for several hours as Tassadar watched, occasionally pacing out of sheer boredom. _The Khala is silent. Not even a heretic to talk to._ Tassadar found himself reflecting that, since the day of his birth, he had never spent an entire day alone, with no one to talk to or even look at. For some reason, he found that disquieting. _I took the company of others for granted, it would seem. Our society promotes society – dependence on others for the roles we each play. One zealot is mighty, but his potential is dependent on the Khalai workers to produce his weapons and armor, his Judicators to provide him with a purpose, and his fellow warriors to help win his battles. These Nerazim seem to have discarded that, to some extent._

A drone separated itself from the assembly line near the minerals and crawled off to a patch of creep. It twisted an enormous chrysalis around itself with astonishing speed, surprising Tassadar briefly. That surprise turned to boredom as the chrysalis pulsed and grew, but did little else. Even when it burst and revealed a strange pool of green, Tassadar felt little more than irritation. _So the hives spread via the drones, which also search out and provide resources. I do hope these disgusting creatures don't have too extensive of a lifecycle. _Based on size, Tassadar suspected the creatures known as ultralisks would be the last zerg organism to rear their loathsome heads, and decided to return to Zeratul when he saw them.

Unfortunately, that took longer than Tassadar would like. The zerg saw fit to periodically cease production of drones and hive structures to produce the floating creatures known as overlords. Tassadar was at first unable to figure out why, but then he noticed the shape and overall appearance of the overlord.

_Large but slow, I know they are capable of deep space transportation, an overlarge cranium…they appear hard to kill, but I know from experience they lack the ability to defend themselves… rather like a Cerebrate. They might be some kind of command organism._

The hatchery mutated into some kind of larger, somehow angrier version of itself, and that was when things became interesting. The hive cluster was growing exponentially more quickly now. Drones moved off to create defensive structures and additional, more complex looking organ-like structures on the creep. Every time a new building sprung up, the larva would mutate into newer, much more frightening forms.

Zerglings had been first, leaping, glistening, emerging in pairs from their eggs. Hydralisks hissed as they were birthed, their scythes already razor sharp. Then, mutalisks – swarms of mutalisks. Tassadar watched in mounting horror and fascination as the hive cluster, previously a tedious affair, lurched into sickening life, producing zerg warrior after zerg warrior in minutes. From the initial mutation of the hatchery, it was only four hours later that ultralisks roared, announcing their birth to the world at large. Tassadar returned to Zeratul, deep in thought.

"The warrior of Aiur returns," said Zeratul as Tassadar trudged back into their alcove. "Have you gleaned some deeper understanding of your foe?"

"Yes," said Tassadar. "For one, I should have been less merciful regarding the terrans. Those creatures are a nightmare unending. Planetary annihilation is the only way to end extended infestation. I have witnessed the growth of a hive cluster."

"And this frightens you," said Zeratul, not betraying a hint of emotion. "Why?"

Tassadar looked to the assembled Nerazim. They were all listening intently, having stopped fiddling with their tools.

"I trained to be a Templar for many decades," said Tassadar. "My armor was constructed by my specification, and the forges hummed for many sleepless nights on my behest at Aiur. No warrior who fought at my side had been a zealot for less than a century in my Expeditionary fleet. Our ships were of the finest make, and no individual turian, terran, or asari ship could withstand one of our own."

"And?" prompted Zeratul.

"And I have learned, for all of the prowess of the High Templar, the zerg can not only match us warrior to warrior in the space of less than a day, but they can outclass and outnumber us in less than a week," said Tassadar, feeling a falling sensation in his chest. His skin tingled with an unfamiliar cold. _Perhaps it is humility._ "I should not have reacted with outrage when Kametra reported their origins. It was inevitable. Only the xel'naga could have created superior beings." _I knew they were the greatest threat the protoss had ever encountered, but I was still certain of our superiority, of our victory. But these creatures are not simply mindless beasts, like the bengalaas of Aiur. They are…cells. Cells of a great, unknowable organism. They fight on a different scale than us. And that frightens me._

"Did you recognize a weakness?" asked Zeratul. "You have grasped the enormity of the threat, it is true, but did you not recognize a fault in their strategy?"

Tassadar pondered this. The answer seemed simple.

"I already know this," said Tassadar. "Murdering one of their Cerebrates would deprive them of their leader. Killing the Overmind, if such a thing is possible, would leave them similarly directi- no. More than that." _Cells in a body. If the body is dead, the brain no longer functioning, what do the cells do? _"Killing the Cerebrates, killing the Overmind, it would spell the end of the zerg."

"Very good," said Zeratul. "Selak was incorrect in asserting the similarity between the Khalai and the zerg. Where the Khalai have balance in the Khala – you are all in equal footing within your gestalt, if not in your society – the zerg have placed a great deal of importance in their leadership. Killing the more advanced organisms is a far greater blow than, say, murdering a member of your Conclave. This is why the Overmind has taken such great lengths to protect Its Cerebrates. Very good, Templar. How much of this information did you know already, having met the zerg in battle and beneath a microscope?"

"It is one thing to fight them, or study a dead zerg," said Tassadar, "another to witness their life cycle."

The next few days were spent going over the basics of using the Void. To Tassadar's surprise, this was a rewarding and oddly familiar process.

"Light casts a shadow," said Zeratul. "All force is answered with an equal amount of force. The Void is the other side of the Khala. Familiar, and yet distinct. It takes discipline, something you possess. It also takes strength, and no small amount of intellectual prowess, both of which you have been gifted with. Part of me wishes you had been born Nerazim." Tassadar was quite flattered by this, which only spurred him on further. For his next assignment away from the alcove, he was able to cloak himself under darkness, much to Selak's disdain.

"This used to be a terran world," Zeratul had said. "You have been merciful to their people, yet still speak ill of them. Moreover, you stated that no people born outside the xel'naga's influence could fight the zerg. Study the ruins to the northeast of here, and smell the ashes they have left. You have seen more of the terrans firsthand than I, but I think you will be surprised by your findings."

Tassadar walked nine and a half miles to the fallen settlement and found only ruin. The buildings left behind were charred from the fires that had clearly raged through them, all of them mostly collapsed. The signs of struggle were there – spent shells from the kinetic weapons the terrans used, shrapnel fragments from explosives, the odd desiccated zerg mandible – but no intact bodies had been left behind. If Tassadar had not met terrans before, these ruins would have given no indication of what they had looked like.

Tassadar wandered the destroyed pathways of the settlement for an hour or two, wondering what Zeratul wanted him to look for. He had witnessed the terrans waging war against the zerg before, and had found them left wanting in terms of efficacy. It was when he found an overlook on which stood the wreckage of one of their lumbering siege tanks that Tassadar found the discrepancy.

_I recognize the way this metal was melted._ _Guardian spores._ When he thought about it, Tassadar realized that all of the buildings had been destroyed the same way, and that there were enormous, still visible furrows in the soil everywhere around the settlement. _They dragged only bodies away. This is different from Chau Sara. The terrans mounted an effective defense – so effective that the zerg were forced to bring in advanced fliers to dismantle it. They were unable to infest the terrans either, and they offered no surrender. Infested terrans did not emerge from this site, only corpses._ Tassadar's esteem of the terrans rose ever so slightly. When he remembered Sarah Kerrigan and the ships destroyed in the atmosphere of Mar Sara, he realized the terrans were a race of great potential. _All of their measures are crude… but none of them were born of the xel'naga. They fully own their successes, where the protoss can only lay true claim to their mistakes._ Part amazed, and part intimidated, Tassadar returned to Zeratul to confess his newfound respect.

"Do not feel ashamed, Templar," said Zeratul after Tassadar relayed his discoveries. "If what you have said about the terrans is true, there is much to despise. Nevertheless, it would be wise to recognize the bravery and skill of the so-called "lesser races." To fail to do so only leads to unpleasant surprises – such as the destruction of your carrier."

Most of the questions Zeratul directed back to Tassadar had been, to Tassadar's surprise, mostly been regarding recent events in the Koprulu Sector. Tassadar had thought for sure that Zeratul would want to know about the Conclave and the current state of Aiur, but Zeratul only wanted Tassadar to recount his experiences regarding the Council races.

"Mass Relays," mused Zeratul quietly as he gingerly took the skull of a hydralisk Tassadar had killed stealthily as part of a test and grunting in satisfaction. "There is one close to Shakuras, our homeworld, but the Matriarch advised we keep our distance. It is one of the few laws she ever saw fit to create and enforce, which always made me especially wary. Xel'naga technology has always perplexed us, yet we do not possess the stringent policies about maintaining our distance that you do. But the Relays… something about them made the Matriarch feel ill. Did she know? I will have to ask."

"The galaxy is far livelier than I had imagined," said Tassadar. "Although, I looked into the minds of the Council species and found less than I liked. Still, if the terrans are more capable than I had previously imagined, I can only hope that they are as well. Why are you so interested in those strange creatures?"

"This skull passes muster," said Zeratul, planting it next to the grisly trophies of other Nerazim kills. "It was cleaned expertly, and the stroke indicates an understanding of hydralisk physiology. As for your question, the Dark Templar find joy in ranging far, seeking wide. If there is an enormous new part of the galaxy for us to explore and observe, it would be best to know the inhabitants. I may very well find myself introducing the Nerazim to the Citadel Council in the next few months."

"You would seek membership?" asked Tassadar, incredulous. "They would admit you only for the sake of stealing your technology and exploiting you militarily!"

Zeratul openly laughed at this, catching the attention of other nearby Nerazim, who seemed astonished. Zeratul clasped a hand on Tassadar's shoulder, and it no longer felt cold to him.

"Not membership, no. The Council has nothing to offer us, it is true, yet we would value their friendship nonetheless, particularly in these…btrying times. And if it meant that the younger, bolder Nerazim can use Council planets as ports of rest in between their adventures, that would be worthwhile as well. Isolation can also bring stagnation, Executor, something you should be all too aware of. Have you wondered why I have asked nothing of your Conclave, Tassadar?"

"Yes," admitted Tassadar. "I suspected you would use me to discover the Conclave's current military strength, their current values. But you have done nothing of the sort."

"Why should I?" asked Zeratul in a depressed tone. "There is nothing new to know. They have not changed. They made certain that it would be so. The Conclave members that hold their positions now still hate us as bitterly as those that banished us all those years ago."

Tassadar could not deny that it was true. If he remembered correctly, a handful of those Judicators actually _were_ some of the same protoss that banished them all of those years ago. _They are old past the point of change, past the point of reason._ _If I ever meet them again, I wonder if they would ask me to recant, or simply have me executed on the spot?_ Tassadar was starting to lean towards the latter.

Tassadar continued to study under Zeratul. He learned how to use and maintain basic tools as well as his own armor, something that would previously have been the responsibility of the Worker Caste. He struck down individual zerg that roamed the waste under the cover of darkness, taking trophies back to the Nerazim camp. He even befriended the younger Dark Templar that had spoken to him when he first reached the alcove, a warrior known as Kythos. It was through Kythos that Tassadar got wind of something strange.

"You have never heard of the Twilight Messiah?" asked Kythos as the two of them carried back the smoking corpses of a zergling apiece. "I would have thought the Prelate would have mentioned it for certain. We did not take interest in you without reason, Tassadar."

"Well, of course," said Tassadar. "I am the first Templar to speak with heret- with Dark Templar for quite some time. This is a chance to bridge the gap that has grown between us."

Kythos remained silent for a time, hoisting the sliced up remains of the zergling and looking thoughtful.

"The Twilight Messiah was foretold as a Templar that would straddle both the light and the dark," said Kythos. "The Messiah would be one who wielded both the powers of the Khala and the Void. Only one such protoss has ever done so – the one who delivered us, whose name we venerate still. Adun."

"Adun?" said Tassadar, astonished. "Adun wielded the Void? He was one of the greatest warriors to ever walk Aiur, and we too still venerate his name. The Conclave holds no record of this – though that does not disprove it in any way, shape or form. That truth would be an inconvenience. Why do you speak of this?"

"The Prelate may say I have said too much already," said Kythos. "But... I will let you know that there are few High Templar that would accept us as swiftly as you have – and even fewer with such a capacity for learning our ways. You walk the shadows as if you were born to do so. Perhaps you were."

"I have nigh on five hundred years of experience with my psionics, young Kythos," said Tassadar, noting his sudden shyness. "The training in some ways is not so different. It is understanding the silence and withstanding the patience that I have difficulty with."

Kythos said nothing more of this, and Tassadar was loath to betray his comrade by bringing up the matter with Zeratul. He nevertheless spent several long hours pondering Adun and the Void, something he was becoming increasingly comfortable with. He clenched his hands and lifted them, letting a slight surge of energy run through them. In one hand, faintly burning, was the shimmering golden aura of the Khala. In the other, coursing through the tight fingers, snaked the careful dark energy of the Void. He let the energy bleed free and decided to approach Zeratul, who had returned from the hidden Nerazim ships with a purposeful blaze in his eye.

"Adun toridas," said Tassadar, making Zeratul look up sharply. "Adun hide us. You said it when you rescued me, before bringing me here. For all our differences, we hold the same Templar on a pedestal."

"Does that outrage you?" asked Zeratul.

"Not at all," said Tassadar. "I wish I had realized the importance of that phrase sooner. I find it comforting that we have a common ground that is so… common. Well-known. I understand if you do not cherish Khas the same way I do, however."

Zeratul gave a low chuckle at this, shaking his head. "He had his points. But no, I see no reason to hold the father of the Khala in great esteem, even if he did end the Aeon of Strife. "Khas naradakh." Khas asked too much. Adun is the one who captured our hearts. You have learned much since you came to Char, Tassadar. A far cry from the Executor who came here only to destroy zerg."

"My rage has not lessened," said Tassadar, "I relish the opportunity to destroy such foes whenever the opportunity presents itself. But it comes with a newfound respect for solitude, and for the ingenuity inherent in all sapient life. I feel you have made me a more capable warrior."

"You still think of yourself as only a warrior?" asked Zeratul. "Since you came here, you have learned to turn zerg into trophies, manage your own armor and weapons, look and listen for details you previously considered insignificant. For all of our desire to slay zerg, the Dark Templar strive to be a great deal more than simple killers. Specialization is for insects such as your hated enemies. You are a more capable individual than you were, do not doubt it. And now the time has come to continue your mission. You are ready. Tomorrow we kill a Cerebrate. And you will be instrumental to that goal."

"I wield the Void well enough, Prelate," said Tassadar. "Still, I fail to see how I would be of any help in slaying such a creature when the rest of you are seasoned warriors already." _Does this have something to with the Twilight Messiah?_

"No, Executor," said Zeratul, eyes gleaming. "This is a chance to prove the value in the ways of the High Templar. Are you familiar with the brood to the southwest? Kythos has gone hunting there many times, but I do not know if he brought you."

"I am familiar," said Tassadar, thinking back. "Orange coloration on the carapace, a disproportionate number of overlords and air organisms. A Cerebrate sitting in the center of the hive cluster. We judged the Cerebrate to be of a most paranoid nature – assuming such creatures have any kind of personality."

Zeratul nodded, slowly. "Are you familiar with the mesa nearby?"

"I have not walked atop it," said Tassadar, "but I know of it."

"Good," said Zeratul, straightening and beckoning to the other Nerazim. "Gather around me then, warriors of the shadow. For tomorrow, we slay a Cerebrate."

The plan, simply put, was the most insane scheme Tassadar had ever heard of, let alone participated in. When he learned his own role, he could not help but feel his hearts beat a little faster at the amount of danger he would be put in.

"I could use a hallucination," he had suggested, trying not to sound desperate. "It would reduce the risk."

"Are you a coward, Templar?" asked Ulrezaj in a biting tone. "You are not among those that must crawl into a zerg hive and then out again, covered in the guts of one of their most powerful specimens."

"Enough," said Zeratul, holding up his hands. "My apologies, Executor, but the sheer number of those overlords would see through such a deception. And there is every chance that the Overmind will intervene personally, as It did when your fleet tried to escape. Such an illusion would be seen through immediately. I trust in your skill – I only ask you to trust in ours."

Tassadar had agreed reluctantly. All too soon, he found himself bidding Kythos and Zeratul farewell as he climbed the rocks on the mesa, his powerful limbs letting him ascend with but little effort. His armor had mostly been discarded, as it was too easily damaged and tarnished by Char's conditions, and made stealth more difficult besides. He was now only clad in a simple cloth around his waist, a light cloak made for him by Kythos, and his psi blades. _And the Khala. And the Void. I am no less dangerous than I was when I arrived aboard the _Gantrithor._ No… I am more than I was._

The top of the mesa was strewn with ash and quite flat. Tassadar could not help but notice how exposed it was to the air, and felt a great pressure on his thudding hearts as he realized it was time.

Standing in the center of the mesa, Tassadar let loose a mighty bellow with his psionics.

"Oh, ye great and terrible Overmind! I witnessed Your insidious presence in the orbit of this pathetic planet. I command Thee to come forth, foul creature, and face me in glorious single combat! I will prove to You once and for all that the Firstborn cannot be overcome through such primitive means! You have my attention but not my respect, bastard born of the great xel'naga! I bid Thee again, come forth, and taste my wrath!"

_I cannot envision myself saying that even in the deepest throes of my misguided belief in complete protoss superiority, but I have a role to play. And if the Overmind is at all similar to the Conclave, then I have likely just angered It._ That thought brought very little satisfaction to Tassadar. _Zeratul asked for a bombastic and arrogant performance, and I have given him one. Let us hope that it was enough._

The entire planet fell silent for a moment, something Tassadar noticed immediately. Then the air rippled once, and Tassadar felt as if he stood with a foot on either side of a tectonic plate, both of which were shifting. Tassadar closed his eyes. _The Khala is my strength, and shadows guide me. All eyes on me, Overmind. En taro Adun._

The ground shook, and Tassadar looked to where the Cerebrate's hive cluster stood. The air was filling with wingbeats, more wingbeats than Tassadar had ever heard in his life. The cloud of mutalisks was so thick that they looked more like one, great, roiling entity rather than a mass of singular ones. _I suppose that is appropriate. It is, after all, true in a sense._

Tassadar could sense row after row of ground zerg scrabbling at the edges of the mesa. A herd of overlords followed the great cloud, and Tassadar could make more zerg tucked within their tendrils. Tassadar waited at the center of the mesa as the ensconced zerg were spat on to the flattened ash, each hissing and pacing. The mutalisks wheeled about overhead, shrieking horribly. Tassadar waited, trying not to betray any trepidation.

Fully surrounded, Tassadar felt the mesa shift. Cracks appeared in the rocks, something trying to push through from beneath. With a great heave and a cry, the rocks burst forth, showering Tassadar with dust as an enormous worm reared with a hiss. Its mouth opened, and a familiar great eye, lidless and full of endless malice, stared down at Tassadar once more.

**"****I thought you dead, Executor Tassadar," **boomed the Overmind, Its words cascading through all of Char. The zerg had fallen silent. Tassadar stood defiant before the closest thing he had ever seen to a living deity. _In a sense It is a god. God of the zerg._ **"I have felt no sign of your presence until your… bold proclamation. Know that it is futile to try and comprehend Me. My existence is beyond understanding. There can be no single combat, fool Templar. I am the zerg. To fight Me, you must do battle with every zerg upon every world, born, unborn, and deceased. This is not even My will made manifest – this eye is but a creature of My design that I might examine your tiny form in greater detail. I am all the zerg are, all they were, all they ever will be. I am eternal." **

"You are an arrogant, misshapen mistake," spat back Tassadar, trying to dispel the fear and awe, to summon forth only rage. "What the xel'naga saw in Your twisted form I cannot understand. You hide behind a pretense of godhood that rings all too false. If You are so magnificent, how was I, a single Templar warrior, able to evade You?"

**"****No doubt it was some cunning trickery," **said the Overmind, the eye drawing closer to Tassadar, twitching as it glanced at his appearance, **"I will tear it from your mind once I have infested it. Your fellow warriors are dead, Executor, and the Khala has grown quiet in My presence. You are alone. The time of this galaxy's reckoning draws nigh. A shadow will soon fall on Aiur because of you. I give you My thanks, Executor. Zasz – subdue the Templar."**

Tassadar's blades leapt from his wrists. He twisted and faded into the shadows as the zerg tore towards him. He knew he had less than a second to capitalize on the confusion. _Zeratul, please, do not falter. Strike down that Cerebrate, that Zasz, quickly!_

Summoning forth all the rage, all the confusion, all the _hate_, Tassadar brought his arms skyward and rent the air with psionic energy.

Zerg burned on the ground, in the air, burned from within. Tassadar's rage brought the zerg low as the overlords fixated on him, directing the warrior broods towards his location.

Tassadar turned, cloak whipping, and leapt into the fray. A zergling flew at his face and was sliced in half. A hydralisk opened its flaps only to choke on a bolt of directed psionic rage, its mouth smoldering as it cooked from within. Another reared, scythe at the ready, but a quick swipe cut it free from the rest of the creature. The second swipe swept the head from the hydralisk's body.

The Overmind was letting out a wordless roar, directed the zerg onward. Tassadar directed another psionic storm, desperate for another few seconds to keep the flying zerg from subduing him. The zerg scattered again as Tassadar screamed and shattered their ranks. A lone ultralisk had climbed the mesa, heedless of the chaos, its carapace smoking from the psi energy while the rock crumbled beneath its weight. It stared down Tassadar with a burning hate. Tassadar readied himself.

**"****Strike him down," **the Overmind was roaring,.**"Aiur is ours! We will be complete! Zasz, the time is-"**

There was a faint shudder, different from the way the air had rippled before. The psionic storms had abated. The zerg had grown still. When Tassadar looked back to the great eye, it was smoking and twitching in apparent pain. _Yes… yes!_

The ultralisk was no longer focused on Tassadar. Its eyes were now filled with a far more feral kind of hate. It swept its head side to side, apparently displeased at the other zerg. With a bizarre, high pitched scream, it lunged at its brethren. As if on cue, the other zerg took the opportunity to leap at each other, rending the air with insane shrieking.

Tassadar shrunk into the shadows, hurrying through the melee. An ultralisk had locked tusks with another ultralisk, each trying to tear the other to pieces. Hydralisks fired spines at each other indiscriminately, forming lines with each other only to turn on those they had sided with as soon as their randomly chosen opposition had fled or fallen. The zerglings meanwhile, tore each other apart in a frenzy so violent it sickened Tassadar. _Never before have I felt sympathy for the zerg._ Mutalisks fell from the sky in clumps, their wings shredded and bleeding. Not all of them were killed by the fall, leaving them thrashing on the mesa, only lending further to the madness. _I am well pleased… though I wish there were a great deal more distance between myself and this chaos._

Unnoticed, Tassadar slipped off the mesa, hugging the rock face before landing on the soil, where yet more zerg were tearing at one another. He sprinted full pelt towards the alcove, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the ill-fated mesa. He reached the alcove heaving with exertion, ridiculously pleased to find the gore-spattered Dark Templar waiting for him. They gazed at him sullenly as he approached.

"You killed it," Tassadar said. "You hurt the Overmind. You wounded a god."

"The Prelate wounded it," spat Selak. "It came with a heavy price."

The Nerazim parted, revealing the prone form of Zeratul. Tassadar approached and fell to his knees, putting his fingers to Zeratul's head.

"He yet lives!" said Tassadar. "His blood still pulses. What cause is there for concern? The Cerebrate is slain, its brood driven to a violent madness. This is a victory, my friends."

Kythos held up a hand, listening intently. Shrieking could be heard on the wind – and it was growing louder.

"We have driven the zerg into a rampage," said Ulrezaj wearily. "Where they did not have cause to tread before, now they will roam freely and attack anything they see. We need to move. This spirals out of control."

Tassadar scanned the horizon, and found it was skittering. _There is no time for celebration, or for trying to wake the Prelate. We must move._

Tassadar grabbed the scant few possessions he had – parts of his old armor, now mostly useless, the head of a defiler he had been fortunate enough to happen upon, and a handful of tools, and left with the Nerazim, loping into the wastes to the north. Selak and Kythos carried Zeratul between them, small packs of belongings nestled on their backs.

"We must make our way to the ships," declared Ulrezaj. "We have wounded our foe, but it would require a mighty army to vanquish the zerg."

"If you think our ships will slip through those zerg, then madness has taken you," said Kythos. "That brood will rend apart anything it sees, and they are almost upon where we have hidden our vessels. If luck is on our side, they will not see them. If it is not…"

They traveled together for several miles, hunched and shadowed. When they finally stopped, it was only because Zeratul stirred.

"Geth," murmured Zeratul. "They went so far from home… flanked the galaxy… no, no, DO NOT LOOK!"

"Zeratul!" said Tassadar, alarmed, but Zeratul slipped shortly afterward back into a fevered coma. They had to continue forward.

The shrieking never ceased, never grew quieter. In killing the Cerebrate, the Nerazim had proved that the zerg were, when uncontrolled, violent without compare. There was no stopping them, no avoiding them. They flew, skittered, and swarmed in every direction, intermittently attacking each other all the while. The next time they stopped, it was because Ulrezaj let out an ill-tempered bark of laughter.

"I just lost contact with our ships," said Ulrezaj, anger flashing. "It would seem our attack on the zerg has left us stranded. The Prelate has killed us."

Zeratul stirred again at this, muttering. Ulrezaj growled, letting his blade slip free of his wrist. He stepped toward Zeratul only to find himself blocked by Tassadar.

"I stared down the Overmind only hours ago," said Tassadar. "Do not think that your immature rage frightens me, Ulrezaj. If you think to touch him, I will remove your arms and legs and leave you here, for the zerg to find and feast upon."

Ulrezaj stiffened at this, looked poised to lunge…

Zeratul came to with a cry, clutching Tassadar's leg. Tassadar looked down at him, saw that the Prelate was shaking.

"I saw," said Zeratul. "By the Void, I saw. That creature-" The Prelate's voice shook with emotion, leaving Tassadar profoundly disturbed.

"What did you see?" Tassadar said at last when no one else spoke. Zeratul's eyes burned with an uncertain fire.

"I saw a world of sewage on the other side of the galaxy, besieged by a chosen son and machine men," he said quietly. "I saw tendrils snaking out into Council space while the grip over the terrans tightened. I saw a diabolic engineer working in the heart of Char, consuming and changing every creature that was brought to him. I saw the blueprints for infested turians, the plans for the races outside the Koprulu Sector. I saw the zerg, weakened for the loss of Zasz, a capable son, and the departure of Daggoth, the son we sought to slay. I saw a great host of living ships waiting on the edge of the galaxy, foes that the Overmind hated so bitterly, it hurt my eyes to look upon them. And in return…" Zeratul looked to Tassadar. "I am so sorry. In return, the Overmind saw Aiur, gleaming in the cold of space, unaware and sublime. It is all It wanted, and I could not keep our homeworld from It. Tassadar…"

Tassadar's hands clenched and unclenched. Deep beneath the crust of Char, he thought he could hear deep, booming laughter.


	23. No More

**Liara**

Liara looked down upon the surface of the green planet's night side, and was surprised to see a large number of lights already shining from the surface; she would not have been able to guess that the planet had received its first inhabitants but a few days ago. Rechecking her instruments, she still could not find a real spaceport on the surface – there was no one to hail, and nowhere proper to land. _It's mostly flat, lots of potential farm land. Should be able to find a place to set down._

Sovereign had given her a week to work with, to scour the ruins for a Beacon. He had retreated to some space in between systems, somewhere no ship would have reason to be. A small flotilla of "sympathetic" geth ships waited with him. _A group of vessels, crewed only by machine intelligences, waiting in the dark…_ Liara was glad she knew they were on her side. _Still, I would not wish their wrath upon this planet, even if I do not know these terrans. I will have to move quickly – the geth have already proved themselves more than efficient at controlling Koprulu aliens._ She remembered the way entire sections of Heshtok had lit up with distant weapons fire while the geth calmly reported to Sovereign (well, more to her) on their progress.

"Confirmed – no life on scans. Primary infestations zones sterilized. Thermal imaging compromised in more volcanic regions – too much background heat. Deploying motion sensors. Continuing orbital suppression of likely areas of contagion and advancing ground companies."

When they had left the geth, it was to see another enormous zerg organism cleave its way through their remaining ships. They were reinforced at the last second, but Liara was left wondering whether the geth would be able to hold the line or not. _They slowed the zerg, at least. Goddess knows how long that will last. With any luck, my actions here should put a stop to this bloodshed. The zerg will never touch this world, if I can help it._

As her craft entered the upper cloud layer and Liara began putting the finishing touches on her planned landing, she was pinged by someone on the ground. Her heart skipped a beat as another asari voice rang through the shuttle.

"Unidentified craft, you are attempting an unauthorized landing on this planet. Make your landing but do not move; security forces will be en route to your location." The voice then chuckled. "If you've got any good excuses, this would be the time."

Liara nodded, hoping against hope that her mother's name would help her accomplish her goal. At first, she felt fear for herself, but realized that at the worst, she would be merely apprehended. Her fear promptly shifted to the people on the planet, who would bear witness to the fury of Sovereign as he reclaimed her, took what was his. _I mean – no. Reclaimed his friend – ally._ _Me._

Liara made the landing safely, opened the hatch to let in the night sky, the cool breeze. Grass rustled and swayed in the wind, and Liara wiped the sweat from her scalp. Lights shone in the distance and swiftly approached, the beams swiveling first over the grass, then over her craft, and then finally fixed on her. She stared back, eyes squinting as two military shuttles landed. _Must be terran, they look too large to be asari._ The searchlights went out as the shuttles landed, causing the grass to bend over backwards to accommodate the sudden updraft. The rear doors opened and light poured from the craft, making Liara shield her face with her hand. A pair of enormous figures emerged from each shuttle first, followed by the familiar, certain movements of asari commandos. Liara raised her hands, heart racing, all too aware of the guns trained on her. The bigger figures, whom Liara guessed were terrans, had lights shining in front of them as well, twin beams cast forward that left Liara unable to see their faces, or much beyond their lights and guns. The soldiers formed a half circle around her, lights shining, casting Liara's figure into sharp relief; when she looked up she could see the shadows of her arms standing starkly against the hull of her ship, two bridges of black that reached for the heavens.

"Identify yourself," said an asari voice at the center of the half circle, "and step away from your craft. It will be searched and most likely impounded. We were not notified of any further visitors – this planet is on lockdown until the terrans find their feet. Explain yourself!"

"I am Dr. Liara T'soni," said Liara, voice firm as she stepped forward with arms still raised. "I came here at the invite of Matriarch Benezia, my mother, to investigate the prothean ruins on this planet's surface."

"Benezia?" said the voice, suddenly confused. "How di- you're her daughter?"

"Yes!" said Liara. "She wanted me here, where she thought it was safe. I was originally bound for Therum, but the planet was-" _Do I tell them? It could cause a panic, but it could also cause the Council to start fortifying their space._ She felt pressure in her skull._ Yes… I should tell them. The zerg must be weakened by any means necessary. _"The planet was taken by zerg. The zerg are inside the Traverse."

The terrans barked something at this, but Liara did not have a translator capable of relaying the meaning behind the guttural sounding words. The asari speaker, meanwhile, stepped forward with a bark of laughter, rifle still trained on Liara' chest.

"You on Red Sand, Dr. T'soni?" she asked. "The Koprulu Sector is a long way from the Traverse. No way those bugs could get all the way over there without getting spotted. Now, we're going to search your craft-"

"Check Heshtok," said Liara desperately, moving aside as three commandos stepped up to her craft and entered it. "The zerg have been destroying comm buoys, and the geth have left the Traverse. The zerg are _here_ and you need to do something!"

"Stay where you are, Doctor," said the lead asari. "I have a feeling something bad's happened to you – trauma must have scrambled your brain. We'll see how much of your story checks out."

They let Liara lower her arms, and some of the guns were taken off her, but otherwise they waited without saying anything, the only sound being the muffled clanking as commando's went through her belongings as the shuttle's engines died, letting a calm descend on the proceedings that had not been there before.

One of the commandos slipped out of the shuttle and spoke in hushed tones to the leader, who gave her subordinate a surprised look.

"There's quite a gap in your flight records, T'soni," she said, glancing toward Liara. "Says you went to Therum, but somehow ended up here, barely passing any space in between. You come here with someone else?"

"I'm alone," said Liara, trying to maintain confidence. "If there were anyone else here, I'm sure you would have been able to pick it up."

"Not really," said the commando leader. "We're still setting up comms, getting things running with the terrans. Most of the fleets have been pulled around the Koprulu Sector or the Republic core worlds – it's pretty bare bones out here. If you came with friends, and they hid as soon as they arrived…" The commando smiled and Liara felt her face go warm. _Goddess, don't let this go wrong. If they really lack that much in the way of equipment, Sovereign will rip them to pieces._

The commando leader's eyes darted backward, her hand suddenly pressed against her ear.

"Yes mistress, we found the vessel," she said. "We have apprehended the pilot and are searching it. Yes mistress, claims to be a Doctor Liara T'soni." The commando leader's jaw dropped. "Mistress, are you certain? It could easily be an imposter, or some sort of sting for a pirate raid. I… yes. Yes, mistress. Affirmative." The commando shook her head in disbelief. "Doctor, our matriarch wants to see you, says she can easily find out for herself if you're telling the truth. Kayla, have your team continue to search the shuttle while I take the Doctor back to base."

Baffled, Liara was taken by each arm by angry commandos and marched back into one of the shuttles. She was seated at the end, watching as the rest of the shuttle filled up with black clad asari, and then finally the two terrans at the end. _Finally, I can get a good look at them._ The armor they bore was as blue as it was enormous, the hue almost matching that of her own skin. The guns they carried in their large metal hands were as almost as big as her, and the chassis that surrounded their torsos was thick, unyielding steel. One opened up his visor to reveal a fleshy pink face underneath, one that was surprisingly similar to the asari, though a great deal hairier. The terran returned Liara's gaze before nudging his compatriot sitting across from him and shrugging a shoulder in Liara's direction and saying something. Both of them then very recognizably laughed.

The commando next to Liara joined in before leaning over.

"You ever get taught about what staring at different aliens will do?" asked the commando. "They still teach that? Intercultural etiquette?"

"Krogan think you're challenging them," recited Liara. "Salarians will come up with several thousand possibilities in the space of four seconds, and then dismiss you as being simply curious. Turians will think you're either being unprofessional or sizing them up for a fight."

"Terrans," said the commando, "if they're male at least, which those two are, think you're, eh, "checking them out," if you get what I mean. We look similar enough to their women that it sends similar signals. So watch your eyes, doctor."

"Oh," said Liara, a little surprised. _I wonder how quickly our schools will incorporate terrans into their lessons. I suppose it will take some time – many Codex entries will need to be filled. Makes me wonder about the protoss as well…_

The flight was short, and there was no further conversation. Liara was taken again by the arms, and led into a concrete square. She looked around, saw the hulking silhouettes of many unfamiliar structures, lights shining from within. Liara had little time to take it in, however, as more terrans and asari ushered her and her group into the nearest, largest structure.

As Liara was marched through the steel corridors, she got her first glances of terrans outside their power armored suits. They watched the procession go by with interest, clutching clipboards or tools with wide eyes. The women caught Liara's attention, if only because their profiles were indeed remarkably similar to asari's. _And they look so small outside their suits! Inside, they dwarf the krogan. Outside, they'd be lucky to match a batarian._

Liara was taken up two flights of stairs, not daring to ask any questions. She was finally brought before a set of double doors that opened with a hiss. Only she and the commando leader stepped through.

The room was large and dimly lit, with the front dominated by several panes of glass that looked over the rest of the terran colony. A desk and several chairs had been set aside a ways from the window, perhaps in preparation for Liara. To Liara's slight surprise, what looked like a bar counter had been placed in the corner to her right, several drinks lined up on shelves behind it, and a vid screen to its left. Before the window, turning to face her guests, was the matriarch, visage obscured in the dark.

"Brought you T'soni, Matriarch Aethyta," grunted the commando. "So – is she the real thing?"

The matriarch stepped forward, head shifting slightly as she scanned Liara.

"Yeah, that's Liara," she said in a surprisingly gravelly voice. "Good work, Captain. I'll let you know if there's anything else. Leave us."

"Ma'am," said the commando, not portraying a hint of emotion as she released Liara, turned on her heel, and closed the doors behind her.

"Have a seat Liara," said Aethyta, gesturing to the small setup and walking towards it. "Oh, sorry, Doctor T'soni. Apologies, I uh, knew you when you were a lot younger. Doubt you remember me."

"You would be right," said Liara cautiously, edging herself into a chair and waiting for Aethyta to likewise be seated. When she did, she got a good long look at the matriarch's weathered face. _Goddess, never appreciated how much work mother did on looking good until now. You can tell this matriarch has endured the roll of centuries._ "Hope that doesn't offend. Mother introduced me to a lot of matriarchs over the years. I cannot say I remember you among them."

Liara thought she saw Aethyta twitch a bit at that and wondered what it meant. _I do hope the Republics didn't leave someone mentally unstable in charge of establishing the terrans here._ It was gone in a moment, however, and Aethyta smiled at Liara.

"Yeah, can't see why she'd want you to have much to do with me. I'm uh, not one of the more conventional matriarchs," she said, nodding back towards the drinks. "Case in point, want a drink?"

"Um, no thanks," said Liara, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

"Pity, I could go for one," said the matriarch, sounding quite remorseful. "Like I said, unconventional. All the other matriarchs were trying to push for the opportunity to meet the terrans in their own space and reap the potential rewards – your mother included, Goddess bless her. But no one wanted to be the matriarch to help the terran refugees – you know, the ones without the tech, money, and guns – get set up on their new homes. So, I volunteered. And hell, it's been way more entertaining than I would have suspected at first. Oh – getting ahead of myself. What in the Goddess are you doing here, Li- uh, Doctor T'soni?"

"I came here to look at the prothean ruins at my mother's behest," said Liara, trying to contain her mounting confusion. "I was bound for Therum, but the planet has been taken by zerg. You have to let people know!"

"Wonderful," said Aethyta in a very tired tone. "You're very fortunate, Doctor, that I'm the one in charge of this colony right now. Your mother and I- well, let's just say she was always very proud of you, and liked to keep even her estranged friends appraised of your accomplishments. You have no reason to lie to me, and I can take a few cursory measures besides to check up on your story. Your mother also told me it was not entirely out of the question that you'd show up. Why you tried to make a landing on the night side of the planet without telling anybody in order to look at some prothean ruins, however, is beyond me. Zerg on Therum, huh?"

"I saw them," said Liara, remembering the shrieking of infested vorcha, the way the planet had seemed to _glisten_ with a new kind of sickening life. "I don't know how they got this far, or how quickly they'll spread, but they're on Therum, they're on Heshtok, and the geth have moved out to fight them." _Digging myself deeper here. Goddess, how am I going to get a look at those ruins now?_

"Geth too?" said Aethyta. "If this is all really happening, then it seems like you're the most well-informed person on this planet. So, if you're here to warn us, what does that have to do with the prothean ruins here on Eden Prime?"

"Eden Prime?" said Liara. "When I checked, the planned name was Terra One."

"Terrans didn't like it, unsurprisingly," said Aethyta with a wave of her hand. "Wanted a name that was actually meaningful to them, rather than a designation. Told the matriarchs it was presumptuous. The name is related to one of the texts of the predominant religion here – but that's unimportant. Back to my question."

"It was the planet mother had suggested," said Liara cautiously. "Moreover, it was close, I knew there would be friendly people here, and above all, I'm an archaeologist. With luck, the ruins might even contain something we can use against the zerg. But mostly… it's my job. Soldiers fight, politicians, um, argue, and archaeologists go through ruins. Mother wanted me here, and Therum was a fiasco. So…" Liara's head pounded. She thought she could feel faint tendrils of displeasure and anger rippling through her being, and wondered if she was imagining it. Either way, she couldn't imagine Sovereign would have been pleased with her pathetic explanation if he was present.

"Sounds like you've been through a lot," said Aethyta, with a surprising amount of sympathy. "Not sure anyone would be thinking straight if they've seen zerg. Why don't you get some sleep and we'll talk tomorrow, after I've made some calls and gone through your things. Alright?"

_That's… surprisingly lenient. I wonder why mother never mentioned Aethyta?_

"Yes. Yes, thank you," said Liara, wondering. "I hope… I hope you can reach the right people."

"Yeah, that would be a miracle," said Aethyta, escorting Liara to the door. Liara was then taken by a small team of commandos, different people this time, much more gently. Head pounding, she didn't quite remember afterward the directions she had been taken in, only that she desperately needed sleep all of a sudden. When she woke, it was somewhere unfamiliar, but soft. She felt content for a few moments, before remembering.

_Day two. Sovereign waits. I _have_ to save this colony._

There was a sawing, hacking noise coming from somewhere in the room. Liara turned over in her bed to face it, came face to face with a reddened pink terran face on the bed on the other side of the room. He was dressed in white and missing an arm, a small knot tied at the stump at his shoulder. Unlike the terrans she had seen before, his head was devoid of hair. Liara also thought she caught a faint whiff of something chemical when he stirred.

She watched the terran snore for a while, wondering who he was and how he had lost the arm. So caught up in her speculation, Liara was quite surprised when an asari nurse walked in, a syringe in hand.

"Oh, you're awake," she said. "Hold still, this will sting. Sorry in advance."

It stung alright, but Liara thought she knew what this was about. She held still and turned over when it was done, rubbing where the nurse had put the needle and readjusting her clothing.

"Translator, I'm guessing?" she asked, wincing.

"Yeah," said the nurse. "A literal pain in the ass, but the way I figure it, at least we were some of the first to get this out of the way. Whole galaxy's got some soreness coming its way. Matriarch's waiting for you, best-"

The snoring terran had suddenly stopped snoring, coming to with a start, his wild eyes roving the room before fixing on Liara and the nurse. His hand whipped to his head and scrabbled over it briefly. The terran fixed the two asari with a confused look, looking behind him and grabbing something with his one hand. Fixing a red hat to his head and standing with a sudden dignity, the terran promptly removed the hat with a flourish and bowed before Liara.

"Charles Roger Buckingham the third," he said in a deep voice. "At your service."

"Buck," said the nurse, "this is not the time. You're due for another round of shots in half an hour, so don't go back to sleep. Doctor T'soni, if you would…"

Half confused and half amused, Liara followed the nurse out of the room, leaving the dismayed Buck behind.

"Sorry about Buck," said the nurse as they edged by several terrans in scrubs and white outfits, none of whom seemed phased by Liara. "Something about the blue skin gets him all excited. He's polite enough, when the meds and missing arm aren't pissing him off."

"How did he lose it?" asked Liara, who was trying not to eavesdrop on all the terrans they were passing. _Who knows, this translator could even come in handy once I'm off Eden Prime. And every bit of info I can get on the terrans will be useful…_

"Zerg," said the nurse dismissively. "It got mangled during the fighting in the Koprulu Sector. He's eager to get a replacement arm and get back into it. He's one of a very small number – most of the terrans here were trying to escape the war. Buck didn't have a choice." Liara felt another pang of sympathy for the colonists, who had traveled so far to avoid the Zerg Swarm, only for the Swarm to maneuver itself across the galaxy.

In the light, Liara could see that all of the buildings she had only glimpsed the night previous were terran. While they were clearly prefab, it was also clear that the terrans knew their business when it came to constructing robust buildings. _These are not dingy, unpowered huts on an unfamiliar world. _To Liara's surprise and slight bafflement, she thought she could see some kind of engine at the corners of some of the buildings. _Mobile, maybe?_ _These terrans must lead strange lives. On the move, perhaps, like the quarians._

Liara was lead into the biggest building again, up the flights of stairs. She thanked the nurse and entered the office. This time she could see the entire colony through the glass panes, and Aethyta was waiting at her desk.

"Not sure how you've been getting around, Liara," said Aethyta. "Unless your flight records have somehow been wiped. But I've got a fun bit of news that clears your story up a bit." The matriarch hit a button her desk and pointed behind Liara. Liara turned to face a frozen news display. Liara heard the matriarch hit another button from behind her.

"We're here on Noveria, where researchers have been working feverishly to counteract the Koprulu Sector's threats to Council interests," said a cheery asari reporter, standing before an anxious looking volus behind her. "With us is Dr. Han Fortun, a scientist with-"

The screen shook slightly and the reporter looked around her, confused. Screaming followed, and Dr. Fortun waddled out of sight relatively quickly. The reporter, whom the news named as "Ada Nymera," tried to recover.

"There seems to be a commotion," she said, trying to maintain an intrepid image while the news feed played underneath, featuring lighthearted messages such as "Council casualties in Koprulu Sector have mounted in recent Confederate offensive" and "Migrant Fleet reports geth resurgence in the Attican Traverse – fourteen comm buoys destroyed." "I – I think I see something out that window."

Nymera motioned for her cam to follow her as she walked briskly to the window, through which Liara could only see frost and snow at first. The cam followed the reporter's pointing finger, focusing on small, dark objects descending from the gray skies. Liara brought a hand to her mouth when she recognized them.

"Um, there might be a problem here," said Nymera before leaping back from the window as something spiny and snarling leapt at it, cracking the pane. Nymera screamed as several more piled on top of the first and they tore at the glass together, the cracks spreading. When the glass shattered, the feed cut abruptly. Liara, hand still on mouth, looked back at Aethyta, who now seemed even more tired than the night previous.

"So yeah, that's created some drama," said Aethyta dryly. "Days ago, they were saying there was no chance of a zerg incursion into Council space. Now I'm hearing they've landed on three worlds in the space of twelve hours. Looks like my dau- doctor, good doctor, was simply one of the first to see them."

"And the geth?" asked Liara, hoping they were doing more than just ending up on newsfeeds. But the matriarch just shrugged.

"All contact with infested worlds has since been lost," said Aethyta. "They're targeting comm buoys. Noveria's the only planet that got the word out. Guess all the money that was there accomplished something after all. There could be geth, I suppose. But that's not important right now. What's important is that we keep you – and this colony – safe."

_Why is she taking such an interest in me? _Liara could not for the life of her remember her mother mentioning Aethyta a single time, yet her mother must have made quite an impression on the weathered asari. _It's probably best not to pry._

"Do you think Eden Prime is at risk?" asked Liara. "I really need access to those ruins, but perhaps it would be best if I didn't stay here long." _It would be best for everyone else here, too._

"Everywhere's at risk," said the Matriarch, shifting in her chair before turning off the screen, "This planet more than most. Terrans brought a lot of people, but their warships all went back into the Koprulu Sector for fighting. And High Command, in all their infinite wisdom, thought a handful of commandos and an angry old matriarch would be all that was necessary to hold this world. So, Doctor T'soni, do _you_ think the zerg will be heading this way?"

Liara wasn't initially sure, and was about to say so. However, as her mouth opened, a sudden pressure hit her temples, and she gritted her teeth. A sense of certainty crept through her being.

"This planet will be safe," said Liara. "I'm sure of it. And I have a job to do here."

"Then perhaps you'd best stay," said Aethyta, folding her arms. "The terrans aren't so bad. Hard working, courteous, prone to laughter. You could do worse."

"I- we'll see," said Liara, exhaling in an attempt to dispel some of the pain in her skull.

"Anyway, I'm one of maybe two people in this colony with a working TV with access to the major news networks," said Aethyta. "So... I've got some bad news to spread. As for you, doctor, you've got some ruins to look at. I'll see if I can't rustle up a few terrans to head out there with you. Already some folks living close by." She shook her head. "Some of these terrans seem determined to live on the fringes. Would have thought Mar Sara's destruction would have brought them closer together."

Aethyta shooed Liara out of the office while she made a few calls. Liara waited outside of the double doors, feeling the beginnings of hunger creeping on her. Terrans passed her by, a few staring as they went by, but most of them apparently well-versed with the sight of asari by now.

About ten minutes went by before Aethyta opened the doors again, leaning against one of the frames and looking down at Liara.

"Got a small farming family heading out that way," said Aethyta, unsmiling. "Apparently they'd like to get a look at those ruins themselves, if that's alright. They may be of some help."

"I don't see how," said Liara, frowning. "Meaning no offense to them, but what help could a few farmers be if I have to do some excavation?"

Aethyta's face twitched. "You haven't seen the SCVs yet, have you? Take a good long look at one, and I think you'll get a few ideas. Good luck. If you find anything, be sure to bring it back here. Your ship will be waiting – if it's a beacon, we'll need to get it to the Citadel." Aethyta paused before smiling at Liara. Liara returned the smile, quite grateful. _You have no idea how many lives you've probably saved by being this helpful. _

Aethyta retreated into her office, the doors sliding shut with a hiss behind her. Liara's terran entourage arrived shortly afterward: a short, balding terran with a red face and neck, a plump woman on crutches with curly straw colored hair, and a scowling, taller terran between them.

"You the archaeologist doctor?" asked the man, stepping forward and proffering a hand, which Liara did not know what to do with. He lowered it, smile lighting up on his face. "Right, yeah. Gettin' used to this. I'm, ah, Malcolm Donnelly. My wife, Sarah." The woman nodded. "My son, Ike." Ike, the taller terran, nodded at Liara. "You are the doctor, right? You got the translator? Can you understand us?"

"Yes, I am Doctor T'soni, and yes, I can understand you," said Liara. "Thank you for doing this. I hope it's not too much trouble."

"None at all," said Malcolm, gesturing for Liara to follow. "You aliens been mighty gracious, givin' us all this land to work with. Thought we'd return the favor, show off some Mar Sara hospitality."

"Well, I appreciate it," said Liara, keeping to the back of the group, behind Sarah on her crutches. "If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, let me know."

"Sure thing," said Malcolm. The four of them walked outside, Liara blinking a little in the brightness of the sun.

The vehicle the Donnelly's lead Liara to was a large, four wheeled truck, the heavy frame of which reminded Liara of the krogan's tomkah. On either side of it, some flames had been half-heartedly painted on the doors. Liara helped Sarah into the back of the truck before joining her, strapping herself in while Ike and Malcolm clambered in front.

"Not much road set up yet, mostly just rails for haulin' grain," said Malcolm as he fired up the truck. "Gonna be a bit bumpy. Ya'll both comfy back there?"

"Let's hit the road, darlin'," said Sarah, leaning back in her seat, crutches set against her legs. "Where you from, Doctor?"

"Thessia," said Liara, looking out the window as the steel and concrete gave way to the green of Eden Prime's endless fields. A thin strip of rails raced into the horizon as well; towards the end of it, Liara thought she could see some hulking figures in the far off distance, bent over the rails. "It's the asari homeworld."

"You Council folks sure seem set on your homeworlds," said Malcolm, sounding a little amused. "They had all sorts of questions for us when we got here about Earth – a place a few of us hadn't even heard of, let alone been to."

"We're Mar Sara folk," said Sarah, looking at Liara with a sad smile on her face. "Where we were born, where we were raised. Broke my heart to leave it. Then to see it burn…"

"Them protoss will pay for that," said Ike, resentment quite plain in his voice. "Got no business, burning our worlds. We coulda saved it!"

"Ike here fancies himself a soldier already," said Malcolm. "Been makin' all kinds of suggestions about who we should be fightin'. Protoss, zerg, Confederacy – should be attackin' all of 'em."

"I'm goin' out there," said Ike excitedly, turning in his seat to look at Liara. "Once the folks are set up here on Eden Prime, Sons of Korhal said they'd have me. Only reason I went here is 'cause Pa said it'd be hard to work the land with Ma's leg still recoverin'. I ain't gonna miss the revolution."

"I'm sure it will find its way back here," said Malcolm, tone hard. "But I ain't about to take your mistakes away from you. I remember a young man once, fresh faced and ready to fight in the Guild Wars…"

"Guild Wars?" asked Liara.

"An old war," said Sarah. "Malcolm and I both served during it. I've heard the Council has had a few scrapes of its own, but rarely against other Council members. Terrans – all we had to fight was each other."

"And we got good at it," said Ike excitedly. "You'll see."

The ride was bumpy, and Liara spent most of it looking out at the wide stretches of yet untamed field that seemed to go on without end. Occasionally, she would see scattered signs of terran habitation – a shack, several figures, or another vehicle – but mostly the only sights were that of an as yet unmodified Eden Prime, the only sounds that of the engine.

"Matriarch told me you'd be diggin' for a while," said Malcolm midway through. "You'll be stayin' with us until you find what you're lookin' for. We ain't got much, but it's almost as good as what we had on Mar Sara. Lord bless that planet, but it didn't have the best soil. Eden Prime definitely has it beat out in that area. This place supports life in a way our old home never did."

About an hour after leaving the main colony, the truck came to a bumpy halt. Liara helped Sarah get out with her crutches before surveying the Donnelly's home.

"Built it myself," said Sarah, beaming. "And when I first met Malcolm, he said he never met a SCV pilot worth knowin'."

Liara's eyes were not drawn to their house, not at first. She instead stepped back, awed, as she looked at an enormous, terran shaped machine with a drill in one hand, huge claw in the other. It sat to the left of the house, inactive, apparently just part of the scenery to the terrans. The house itself was another prefab, spacious and quite sturdy looking, but still nothing compared to the shock of seeing what Liara had to assume was some kind of war machine.

"You built _that?_" asked Liara, voice trembling, pointing to the absurd contraption. Malcolm and Sarah exchanged concerned looks.

"Er, no," said Sarah. "SCVs are mass produced at the command center, the big building we picked you up in. Sorry, forget you aliens freak out when you see a good, honest, laborer's tool. No – I built the house, sweetie. Ain't she a beauty?"

"Yes," said Liara, shaking her head in a mixture of disbelief and shock. "It looks like a nice home."

"Sarah here has been helpin' out with the grain rails," said Malcolm, somewhat successfully drawing back Liara's attention. "Should be able to ship out all manner of produce back to the main colony for processin'. Her leg's not doin' so well, but she can still handle the SCV. Leaves me and Ike to do the fields – that's hard work enough, to be sure."

Liara remembered what Aethyta had said about her time spent on Eden Prime being "entertaining." If the terrans considered such feats of engineering to be casual or commonplace, she couldn't help but feel a little excited for the future of Council space. Then she remembered why she was on Eden Prime.

"The ruins," said Liara. "I need to see the ruins. Are they close by?"

"Now, just hold on a minute young lady," said Malcolm, looking a little indignant. "We need to get you settled. We've got your things in the back. There's no rush, from what I understand. Went to an archaeological dig back on Mar Sara once – boring as hell, pardon my language. Doesn't seem like a particularly swift business. Take your time. I'll be makin' dinner."

Liara couldn't come up with a plausible explanation for why she would need to rush an archaeological dig, and was strong-armed into helping Ike and Malcolm carry her luggage from the shuttle, which was mostly books. _I wonder where it is right now. Hope they clean it up a bit, maybe refuel it… I guess it was silly to think I was going to conduct a covert archaeological dig._

Malcolm and Sarah introduced Liara to the house, which was neat, orderly, and totally devoid of any personal belongings.

"We didn't have time to pack back on Mar Sara," said Sarah apologetically. "House doesn't feel quite lived in, yet. I think what I miss most was the old photos of us together. It's almost like our history was wiped out with Mar Sara."

"You did have plenty of roots there," said Liara, wondering just how much of herself would be lost if Thessia were to fall to the zerg – how many landmarks and memories reduced to ash. "I'm sorry for your loss. But you got out alive. You can make new memories here!"

"That's the plan," said Malcolm, giving Ike a dirty a look as he did so. "Some of us don't agree with it, though."

After the introduction, Malcolm and Ike excused themselves to work on the fields while Sarah crutch walked her way to the SCV. Given no instruction beyond getting settled, Liara looked through her belongings for her PDA. She found it beneath one of Dilinaga's texts, brought it online. She then spent several hours looking up every available scrap of information on the terrans she could, which wasn't much. Their Codex entries were still being updated about roughly every twenty minutes, either by professional scholars or crazed amateurs.

_Homeworld: Earth. Not that they care. Unknown number of planets under their control. Military strength varies by government – Goddess, they're not even unified. Confederacy: at war with. Kel-Morian Combine: neutral, no contact yet. Umojan Protectorate: neutral, no contact. Sons of Korhal: allies, waging war alongside them against the Confederacy, zerg, and protoss._

Physiology was yet unknown, though apparently the Sons of Korhal leader had promised to fill in that information. _Carbon based, though. Red blood, same as asari._ When she finally raised her head from her PDA, hours later, the sky had not changed color, yet she knew much time had passed. Ike and Malcolm returned, muddy and sweaty, yet quite pleased with themselves.

"Diggin' beats drivin' tractors," said Malcolm as he untied his boots, leaving them outside. "It's hard work, honest work. You settled in?"

"Yes, thank you," said Liara. "Making progress, then?"

"Ayup," said Malcolm. "Believe it or not, the day is done. Sixty hour cycle here on Eden Prime. But don't worry." He hammered a button to his left, and metal shutters immediately descended over every window, instantly shrouding the house. "See? Bedtime, anytime. Gotta love Sarah, she knows her stuff."

_I could work with sixty hour days… but I know Sovereign meant Galactic Standard. And his patience is wearing._

Malcolm began fixing dinner while Ike hung around Liara and looked like he was about to ask a question, but never did. Sarah returned, sweaty but not muddy, her arrival evident by the mad whirring the SCV made as it returned home.

The four of them sat together at the metal table that, yes, Sarah had also made. Liara hadn't realized it until they served the soup and bread, but she had not eaten since arriving at Eden Prime, and was suddenly ravenous. She tried to keep it polite and not eat too fast, but it was a difficulty.

After dinner, Malcolm brought out an old radio and began playing it, cursing as he got wind of the zerg incursion into Council space.

"Reports are sketchy and unconfirmed, seein' as I'm relayin' this through alien news channels," said the voice on the radio, "but the zerg are _definitely_ here. They're talkin' about callin' back their fleets in the Koprulu Sector, which would mean the war over there would be more or less over. Speakin' of Koprulu, our boys are dug in alongside the Council forces over on Antiga Prime. There's widespread riotin' all through Confederate space, and casualties are high on all sides. Put short: the galaxy's bleedin', and it don't look poised to stop."

"I hate this," growled Malcolm, turning off the radio with a hiss and glaring at Ike. "Boy, you want to walk into that shitstorm?"

"It's for the right cause," said Ike stubbornly, leaning against a wall. "How else is Mar Sara gonna be remembered, if not through what the survivors did after?"

"I'd rather we were remembered as builders, not warriors," said Malcolm. "I'd rather that was how the Council saw us. Fightin' ain't the only thing worth doin'. When I stepped into my combat suit and fought in the Guild War, I thought it was to bring peace. All it did was lead to _this_ war."

Liara could tell it was an old argument, and neither were willing to give ground. Sarah and her exchanged glances, acknowledged each other's unwillingness to participate. The argument ended with Ike storming off and Malcolm grinding his teeth, face red and puffy.

"When that boy gets shot for some godforsaken cause on a distant world," he said to no one in particular, "I ain't gonna weep for him. He died the moment he took the family armor back into the Koprulu Sector. We lamented his passing that day. Didn't bear him a second thought after."

An hour later, Liara crept into bed with a full belly. She felt almost content, until two words shook her out of the calm.

_Day three._

She awoke before the others did, dreams haunted by whirring, mechanical red eyes, the shrieks of zerg as they tightened their grip over everything. She had the oddest sensation that she was being watched from afar, but had no idea why. _It feels cold._

Breakfast was simple, grains and oats, enough to keep a person going all day. Afterward and at long last, Ike and Malcolm drove her to the promised dig site, her tools rattling in the flatbed.

"So, about these protheans..." said Malcolm. "Who exactly were they? Any relation to the ruins in the Koprulu Sector?"

"Not sure," said Liara, who was sitting up front while Ike sulked in the back. "I would need to see the Koprulu ruins myself. It's certainly on my list of things to do." _Once this is all over. Once the zerg are exterminated, and Sovereign has no more use – no more need for me._ "They were a race that lived before us. They were wiped out in some kind of cataclysmic event. Going through old sites of habitation like this one might help me answer just what happened to them."

"Well, I hope you find more than those eggheads on Mar Sara did," said Malcolm, pulling the truck up to where an austere white spire rose into the sky. Liara couldn't help but feel reassured as she was put back in her element. _Time to do what I was born to do._

Malcolm and Ike helped Liara carry what equipment she had while pointedly not speaking to each other. Malcolm dusted off his hands and sighed, looking at the prothean structure sticking out of the ground.

"If you need anything else, give us a holler of the radio we left ya," said Malcolm. "Shouldn't be anyone else out here, though. Best of luck, we'll be back in a few hours."

Liara bid them goodbye and set out to find just how much ruin she'd be covering. _It looked a lot simpler from Sovereign. Wish I had a layout._ She climbed a nearby hill and looked over the surrounding area. To her pleasant surprise, there were plenty of old prothean structures still protruding from the earth, their bleached white skeletons standing tall after all these millennia. Liara picked a likely looking area and brought a few brushes and precisions lasers. She set to work on one of the structures, looking for markings or any sign of what it had been a part of.

The first structure had apparently been residential, as had the second. The third was residential as well, but helpfully contained a few traces of old eezo that Liara knew was associated with being in relatively close proximity to the prothean starports of old. She stuck to that area, slowly determining just where in the settlement she was standing.

As she took a break, she almost thought she could hear a distant echo of shouts, long buried. She shut her eyes and felt cold first, and then heat, rushing over her body. Fear took her as her body stiffened, and she felt an overbearing sensation of some kind of unknowable doom approaching. _The empire is falling. They are here!_ But when she opened her eyes, it was to the sight of green, beautiful Eden Prime, newly populated by intrepid terran refugees. Still, as she looked around, she couldn't help but feel something she had never felt before, in all her digs: thousands, perhaps millions of people had died around where she was standing, once. It filled her all at once with awe, fear, and dread.

Still, it did not change the fact that there was still much work to be done, and Liara set to it. When the truck arrived again, Malcolm and Ike in the front seats, it was to find a tired and dusty Liara, smiling at having accomplished a great deal for the first day, yet quite happy to have some company.

They returned home, the light beginning to fade.

"High summer right now," said Malcolm. "About thirty-three hours of daylight, twenty-seven of night. Little disconcertin', but I'm gettin' used to it. You okay with workin' in the dark?"

"Quite okay," said Liara, giving him a smile. "At least I'll still be in the fresh air." _Mother was worried about that, I remember. Well, I won't be crawling around any caves._

Dinner was livelier than Liara would have suspected it to have been, with both Ike and Malcolm in livelier spirits. She found out why when she retreated to her room for the night, only to hear gunshots outside.

Alarmed, she ran outside to see Malcolm with a can of beer in hand, muttering directions to a hulking silhouette with two beams of light projecting from it. He turned to Liara, suddenly looking imposing in the dark.

"Sorry to worry ya," said Malcolm. "Gettin' Ike familiar with my old armor and gun. If he's set on dyin' for some foolhardy cause back in the Koprulu Sector, he may as well take a few bastards with him."

The silhouette gave Liara an awkward salute when Malcolm said this. She waved back and returned to her room, wondering. _Reminds me of mother. No matter the argument, no matter the distance between us, she always came back to help me out._ It made her feel sad, like she would never see her mother again. _That's… that's not true._

_Day four._

"Any requests for the matriarch back at the main colony?" asked Sarah as the two of them waited for Malcolm to finish cooking. "She was askin' after ya, pinged us briefly."

"Actually, yes," said Liara. "Would it be possible to get a satellite image of the dig site? It's hard to see the land I'm working on as a whole when I'm standing on it."

"Easy enough, comsat can handle it," said Sarah. About an hour later, Liara was handed a sheet of paper with the black and white imagery of the land she _would_ be working on. _Alright, looks like I'm in the right area. Prothean beacon could potentially be to the southwest._ Liara spared a few idle thoughts for what might happen if there were indeed nothing to find, and Sovereign went on a tear through the colony. _Violence, and pointless violence at that. I need to be careful. If the beacon is indeed here, I cannot risk destroying it. And if it isn't… well. No use dwelling on that._

She was driven out again, this time in utter darkness. She was given several flashlights to work with and given a warning not to twist her ankle while out in the dark.

She fumbled about, trying to reorient herself to where she had been the day before. It took an hour to find the structure, and Liara had almost tripped on her own feet twice. She took a few samples, checked them for traces of eezo, continued to the southwest. A hill obstructed her passage, though the huge spire that shot through it was rather promising. Liara took samples and found more traces of long spent eezo. _Perfect._

She checked the hill for any potential passages that had since been buried by dirt or stone, but was sadly disappointed. She climbed up to the spire, checked for the markings that scholars had determined was a rough approximation of the prothean's word for "starport." She found about four of the seven telltale signs, though it was hard to tell in the flickering light and encroaching darkness. Speaking of, the darkness was making Liara feel strangely uncomfortable. She thought she could feel countless eyes on her again, and she shook with a cold that was not borne of any wind of Eden Prime. She closed her eyes, opened them, and turned to find a figure standing behind her.

"You should not be here, asari," said the terran, his face obscured in the dark. Liara turned her light on him, saw his skin was darker than the Donnelly's, that he wore a rifle on a strap over his shoulder. "This place is dead, though its ghosts lie restless. You should remember that."

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" asked Liara, feeling panic creeping on her.

The terran cocked his head, sneering. His hair was dark, like his skin, and Liara could see muscle in his arms and legs. Despite being unable to see his face too well, Liara could feel waves of anger and resentment crashing over her as the terran stood before her.

"My name is unimportant, asari. I am here to serve a higher purpose, one that was preordained when the stars of this galaxy were young… as are you." The terran looked at her, eyes feral. "How can you pick through the bones of the empire like this at the behest of the Reapers? How hard did he have to press you? The traces of indoctrination are faint – yes. You were an archaeologist before this. This is natural to you."

"I – I am still an archaeologist!" said Liara, confused, frightened, and not liking at all where this conversation was going. "What in the Goddess are Reapers? I don't know what you think you know, but I am telling you, I am supposed to be here, and the protheans have no use for this place anymore. Look – I can't tell you how or why, but I am here to save lives."

"Indoctrination and emotional manipulation," muttered the terran, turning away. "The Reapers chose a wily vanguard. Still…" The terran reached for his rifle. Liara felt a flash of pain, of fear, then of _hate._

With a surge of energy, she let loose a biotic blast, only to see the terran jump nimbly out of the way. To her horror, he responded with a lash of his own wrist, his hand glowing green as he knocked Liara to her knees with a gesture. She projected a singularity, but it hung for only a second in the air before it collapsed when the terran clenched his fist. He walked forward with cold purpose, gun barrel pointed at Liara's face. She gasped, sweated, and then waited.

And waited.

"No," muttered the terran. "He would land here, wouldn't he? Your ship. To reclaim your body. Wreak vengeance."

Liara nodded frantically in response, knowing it was true and in no position to deny what was going on. The terran spat on Liara, a hateful grin twisting his face. Liara felt desperate tears intermingling with the terran's saliva, unable to feel disgust over the fear.

"It cannot be allowed," he said, withdrawing his rifle. "There can be no warning. Very well, _asari_, I am forced to tolerate your desecration… and enslavement. Death would have been a release compared to what lies ahead." He pointed straight down at the ground he was standing on. "If you are looking for the beacon, it lies below. You must dig, and carefully. Take what the Reaper needs from it and get out. Your presence is sacrilege, but it is nothing compared to what could be lost if… well." The terran said nothing more, fading as if into nothing, only a dull shimmer remaining. _Cloak. Full spectrum cloaking._

Liara spent a long time lying there, only moving to wipe the spit from her face. When she took a deep, wracking breath inward, she had to resist sobbing. _What the hell was that?!_

How long she remained prone, Liara had no idea, but it was with great relief that she heard the truck pull up, saw lights and heard shouts. She pushed herself up, called out to the Donnellys.

She returned with them, shaking, barely speaking a word. It was only when, quite concerned, they brought her back into their house and brought her to her room that she spoke.

"There was a man – a terran," she said. "He had a gun. I think – I think he was crazy. Biotic or psionic, I don't know. Dark skin, a rifle, personal cloaking. He almost killed me."

Sarah and Malcolm exchanged a glance.

"Sounds like a ghost, dear – terran special operative," said Sarah. "But any ghosts the Sons of Korhal had at their disposal would have gone with them into the Koprulu Sector – they're quite rare."

"Could be rogue," said Malcolm thoughtfully. "You hear about that, sometimes. The poor bastards get their head crammed full of cybernetics, sometimes have their eyes replaced – all sorts of procedures. Not surprising some of them go nuts. Can't say how a rogue ghost ended up here, though."

They promised to radio it in to the command center before leaving Liara to fall asleep, covers pulled him high, trying to focus on happier memories spent on Thessia with her mother. _He kept mentioning Reapers. What are Reapers?!_ _No… there's no point in denying it._ She knew what he had meant. And she was quite certain she had been lied to.

_I could just stop. Stop excavating. I know where the beacon is, I could tell Aethtya and she'd send in a proper team to retrieve it. I could tell Sovereign that I'm done…_

_But I'm not, am I?_

_Day five._

"Sarah," said Liara at breakfast, "I think I know where the – the thing I'm looking for – is. But I'll need some digging done. Are SCVs good at that?"

Liara was not surprised to learn they were.

So on day five, the truck trailed behind Sarah's SCV, which hummed along at impressive speeds, its cheerful pilot obscured by the steel.

Malcolm and Ike were still a little shaken from the previous night, and it was not helped when they turned on the truck radio to hear further news.

"The protoss turned away the Salarian Second Fleet yesterday at Chau Sara," blared the radio. "Admiral Obis, who was en route to reinforce the Council and Korhal position at Antiga Prime, reports that, at the behest of the Council, he approached the protoss only to be firmly rebuffed by warning shots from their vessels. Attempts at establishing radio contact likewise failed, and Obis states that he made, uh, "threatening remarks," as he was under the impression the protoss were not listening. The results were swift, and the Second Fleet reports the loss of sixteen frigates, five cruisers, and a dreadnought. I was told that that was bad. Protoss casualties are unknown, but presumed light. Attempts to further bypass Chau Sara have been unsuccessful. The Koprulu Sector is cut off, for the time being."

"God_damn_ it," swore Malcolm, thumping the dashboard. "Your Council has some right stupid ideas sometimes, Liara. Salarians – the lizard men, right?" Liara nodded. "They're idiots. The protoss made it clear they ain't interested in talkin' to the likes of us. And seein' as they fight zerg more effectively than the rest of us put together, that sits fine with me. Let 'em do what they want, so long as they don't burn no worlds with people still on them."

"That ain't gonna work, Pa," said Ike. "Can't let people get away with things like that. They should be honored that the Council wants them to be a part of it."

Malcolm sniffed, looking disgusted, wafting his left hand over his nose. "Son, your breath stinks. You need to stop eatin' that horseshit they've been feedin' you. Listen, Sons of Korhal, Council, Confederacy? Ike, they're all the same. Big men lookin' to profit off small men. They brought us here because they smelled profit in doin' so, not because it was the right thing to do, though I'd say it was. The protoss at least, _they're_ actin' with conviction. Moreover, they're lookin' into the heads of these politicians and knowin' exactly how much lying is goin' on. If I could do that, I'd be plenty ornery as well."

"They killed Mar Sara, Pa!" said Ike, looking appalled. "How can you like 'em after that?"

"The zerg killed Mar Sara, Ike," said Malcolm. "The zerg are the ones who hurt your Ma. The protoss are the ones who put a stop to 'em. I won't say I _like_ the fact that they burn worlds and won't talk to anyone, but I'll respect 'em for it. And God help us if they stop."

The conversation ended there, with Malcolm gripping the wheel with white knuckles while Ike donned a thoughtful expression in the back. Liara was left contemplating Malcolm's words, wondering how much of it was worthwhile. _The Council's interests in the Koprulu Sector certainly aren't entirely wholesome, but I hope he still feels grateful for Eden Prime. This planet really is beautiful. And green._ The SCV rolled to the side and the truck followed it. They had arrived.

Liara exited the truck and directed Sarah towards the hill under which a prothean beacon supposedly stood. Sarah had to very carefully maneuver between the old prothean spires in order to reach it, drill spinning.

"Be very careful, and watch for strange energy signatures," said Liara into Malcolm's proffered radio. "And… thank you."

"Any time, Doctor!" came Sarah's cheerful response. The drill and claw surged forward, and the SCV began scooping up soil and drilling through rock. _It really is an impressive piece of engineering. Even if the protoss never open up to the Council, we should be thankful the terrans are with us. We stand to gain a great deal._

"Applyin' some pressure, got rock and metal beneath the drill now," said Sarah. "Getting faint readings – weird ones. Radiation, radio, all sorts. What were protheans like, exactly?"

"We think they had more advanced senses than the Council species," said Liara, struggling to make herself heard over the din of the drill. "Additional eyes, maybe. What we're after, a beacon – it might have been some kind of psionic communication device. We didn't have any confirmation of those kinds of abilities until the Koprulu Sector opened." _I suppose asari physiology has a few quirks that come close to psionics, though. Still, nothing truly exciting. _

"Crackin' it open," said Sarah. "Doin' it gentle as I can. Pullin' back…" The SCV scooted backwards slowly, a large section of steel and rock going with it, soil crumbling, falling as the interior of the hill, of the tower, saw the light of day once more. Liara winced when she saw the gaping hole left behind. _If I had enough time to do a dig _without_ tearing apart the site… ah. It's a crime that I had to do this much damage._ The memory of a gun barrel being leveled at her head did, however, dispel the guilt slightly. _It's for the greater good, besides._

Liara peered forward, seeing a green light thrumming and glistening from within what was once the control tower of the starport. Ignoring the exclamations and questions from the Donnellys, Liara stepped forward without fear, only morbid curiosity. The remnants of a dead empire shone before her.

**"Don't you dare."**

Liara could hear him, in the fiber of her being, somewhere deep inside where he had no right to be. To resist and defy Sovereign – it was worth it, for she knew that soon, there would be no strength left.

_The truth hurts. I felt it that night where I realized this was as much as graveyard as an archaeological curiosity. But I would have more of it. You lied to me Sovereign. Reaper._ Liara took a deep breath… and let the beacon draw her in.

She saw – she didn't know at first. Flashes of so many buildings, so much cleaner and prouder then than they were now. The protheans she saw only in glimpses, but she could feel them, the echoes of a proud, warlike people. _They conquered, they did not enlighten. Not… how I wanted to envision them._

Eden Prime had been an agricultural world, devoid of much purpose beyond feeding armies. That had changed when the Reapers had come. The images became fragmented, hard to understand. They had arrived without warning, a great synthetic fleet. The Citadel… cut off. Relays locked. Worlds burning. Eden Prime had been one of the last places to fall. _Commander Javik… ordered a retreat here. Hidden pods. By the Goddess, so much death._ The images ran faster, death and blood and circuits and camps and slaughter. The protheans were twisted, told they were useless. Liara could feel a burning anger in her chest at this, the memory of a genetic slight.

**"The protheans could not serve, most were discarded."**

The memories began to fade, and Liara could feel two great and terrible angers – one from the beacon, and one from within. From the beacon –

_**We are offering you a chance at vengeance. Our stars are waning, but the samples do not lie. At long last, we have seen an opening. The Reapers, thieves of our birthright, will be contested…and then consumed. And if you accept, you will live to see it.**_

From within –

**"Your punishment will be severe, T'soni. You overstep your bounds. The leash tightens."**

Liara woke to find a cool cloth being applied to her scalp. Ike looked worried, yelled at his parents that she had woken up. But Liara barely registered that. She looked up, and saw the sky turn red.

Sovereign descended in all his horrifying glory, great arcs of lightning rippling from his hull. The Donnellys gawped, their exclamations inaudible over the chaos, Sarah's SCV now looking positively tiny before the great ship. There was a moment of calm, before one of Sovereign's tendrils moved.

A beam of red light flew from the tendril, screaming through the air. It swept past Liara, leaving her unharmed – she was not the intended target. The last she saw of her gracious hosts, her first terran friends, was their silhouettes as the beam swept past them and their SCV. Afterward, there was not even ashes. They were gone.

"No," muttered Liara. "No… NO!"

Sovereign let loose a devastating, deafening cry. It ripped through Liara's head, rebounded inside her skull and shredded the gray matter inside. She found herself rising, staggering…towards the source of the sound.

_No… no._

She could not stop. Spellbound, she staggered through the wreckage, through the embers. She lost consciousness, but when she woke, it was to find her body still moving, now climbing the ramp Sovereign had offered her. As she climbed aboard, everything pulsed red.

**"Defiance has a high price, T'soni,"** said Sovereign. **"You have performed your task, even performed it effectively. But know that for every second of treachery, be it even a thought, the punishment will be severe."**

"You killed them," muttered Liara, struggling inside her own body, succeeding only in making herself trip slightly. "Why? They were no threat to you. They helped me. _Reaper._"

"**The protheans called us that," **said Sovereign. **"It is as accurate an epithet as "Sower of Life." We care not for the names bestowed upon us by your pathetic societies. We simply – are."**

Liara collapsed inside Sovereign as the ramp withdrew, and a dim crimson lighting took the place of the bright sun of Eden Prime.

**"I killed them because you knew them," **said Sovereign. **"They were not a statistic to you. You witnessed the plight of a different people, grew to care for them. They seemed a certainty in your eyes – solid, full of life. I undid them without difficulty. Only their home, their works, their memory will remain. And with a gesture, I can destroy that as well. We are not a force that can be stopped through strength of character, through the unity of lesser races. You must be divorced of that notion, if you are to serve. The lives of organics are meaningless. You are meaningless. Only through destruction will you find salvation. I will free you from the tethers of your existence. I will obliterate your being until only perfection remains. You will shed all weakness, all attachment. The Donnellys were merely the first thing to be cast aside. Your life will be the last."**

"I will resist," muttered Liara, face down, a trickle of drool running down her face. "You can't make me tell you what I saw…"

"**I can."**

And he did.


	24. The Fall

**Adrien**

When Adrien had first walked on the surface of Antiga Prime, the skies had been clear. The people he had seen had been occasionally stained with the blood of the recently evicted Confederate soldiers, but most had been clean and optimistic for the future. The horizons, too, had been devoid of any kind of unnatural obstruction; he had looked out over the mesa and saw wide expanses of flats, devoid of any features created by sapients.

That was not the Antiga Prime that he saw now.

Adrien's boots sunk deep into the black mire, creating a dull sucking sound as Adrien clenched his jaw and pulled himself free of the likely blood-soaked mud, a small chorus of similar sounds following him as he lead his two bodyguards into the Korhal-Council forward camp.

Around him, Adrien could hear the screams and whimpers of wounded turians, asari, and terrans alike, coupled with the dull mutters of the soldiers whose only injuries were that of the spirit. As he pulled his attention away from his damnably eternally stuck boots, it was to see all three races huddled together, a far-away look in their eyes, often a bottle of some alcoholic beverage being shared between them (not the turians, though, fortunately.) _Morale is deteriorating. I can understand why._

General Duke's defection had brought a welcome influx of troops and materiel that was promptly put to good use by Mengsk. Coupled with the manufacturing facilities in Antiga Prime, Adrien was finally given a good look at how the terran military machine worked. _And it is horrifying._

The terrans placed a much larger emphasis on ground warfare than any of the Council species. In truth, their approach was rather reminiscent of the krogan: brutal, basic, but highly adaptive. Their infantry could move quickly, stand up to any opposition, and used equipment that required little maintenance. They had turned their armor into artillery, creating a lumbering beast of a machine that could devastate enemy forces from extreme range. Adrien could barely make out the silhouettes of the cluster of tanks on the edges of the camp, though he could hear the rough chugging of their engines. The large bipedal machines known as Goliaths rounded out the bulk of the terran army, though Adrien did not see any nearby. Adrien had not seen any in action yet, but he knew they were capable of making armored gunships back down without difficulty, while also still retaining the ability to cut ground targets in half with their gatling guns.

The terran air forces, in contrast, were rather lacking, with only the cloaking capabilities of the Wraith holding any of Adrien's interest. It was in the air where the Council forces could best hold their own.

Though it was the dead of night, Adrien could smell and feel the smoke and ash that still fell from the air, remnants of the orbital bombardment both sides had subjected Antiga Prime to. Upon learning of Duke's defection, the Confederates had arrived in force. While their battlecruisers had been great in number, the maneuverability of the ships once in realspace left much to be desired. As before, Adrien had quickly took advantage of their poor turning ability and overall lack of speed to make a short jump that had flanked their forces. It hadn't been enough to stop them from approaching the planet (quickly targeting and leveling the main colony once its ion cannon had made a further mess of their fleet) but it had made them infinitely more cautious.

_And now they've fallen back entirely, leaving their ground troops behind._ Adrien grimaced as he slipped on something, tried to contain his disgust at discovering it was a mud-covered severed terran hand. _These soldiers have been down here too long._

"Got a body part in the mud here!" said Adrien, causing the nearest group of disheveled terran soldiers to look up in sudden shock. They hurried over, picking up the hand by the middle finger before flinging it into a nearby trash can before offering an awkward salute. Adrien just stared at them momentarily before moving on, feeling his spirit draining away as the camp's atmosphere had its effect.

Tents, black as the mud they were sunk upon, waved in the gentle breeze. Adrien continued to struggle through the mud to make his way to the command tent, where Raynor was waiting. _Mengsk really did send him into the thick of it._

When Adrien entered the tent, he was half hoping that Raynor, being the camp's commander, would have made his tent slightly more presentable and slightly less horrific than the rest of the camp, if only to maintain proper decorum. Adrien was to be disappointed – as he walked through the mud-encrusted tent flap, it was to find that Raynor had brought wounded into the tent. The smell of blood and death hung quietly in the air, and Adrien became thankful that he could not see just how badly the ground had been stained by the dead and dying. _I have to respect the man for giving up some of his scant few comforts for the sake of the men under him. Still, the scent must be driving him mad._

Raynor looked up from the holographic map he had been poring over in the center of the tent. His head, previously shaven, was beginning to grow back and was noticeably untamed. His demeanor also seemed far less unflappable and cocksure then it had been in their previous encounters. He nodded at Adrien, clearly exhausted.

"General," said Raynor, straightening. "Good to see you. I've been takin' as best care of your men as I can. Far as I'm concerned, they're Rangers as well. So, you got good news for me?"

"I do," said Adrien, trying to keep his eyes off the moaning wounded in the corner. "The Confederate fleet has staged a full retreat back to Tarsonis. We can begin orbital bombardment shortly, after we offer a final chance at surrender to the Confederate ground forces." Adrien let his eyes sweep the tent again, trying to imagine how bad it had been. "No trouble from your injuries, then?"

"Not allowed to do fieldwork right now," said Raynor, sounding a little embarrassed. "S- Lieutenant Kerrigan made me promise. Any reason you had to come down here, then, General? Woulda been happy just to do this over screen or radio. Spare you the sights." Raynor coughed. "And smells."

"I wanted to get an idea of what the campaign down here had been like, Captain," said Adrien, pulling his swiftly sinking boot out of the mud, trying to maintain his bearing. "I will be reporting to the Council shortly, and I would like that report to be accurate. So." Adrien swept a hand over the tent. "How did _this_ happen?"

"Terran warfare puts an emphasis on defense and patience, General," said Raynor, sounding a bit miserable. "Siege tank lines are the main form of defense. We're dug in here, and about three klicks to the northeast, the Confederates are dug in too. If they advance, our tanks will shred them. If we advance, their tanks kill us. Both of us took the time to coat the no man's land in between with a stretch of spider mines. Any approach in the air from the front doesn't work – Goliaths and AA turrets don't let anything through. We've been feelin' each other out with surprise attacks – creeping around the side with dropships, sniper teams, the works. But neither side's broken through. But if you own the orbit, guess that's about to change." Raynor sucked in a deep breath. "Can't say I'm happy about seein' this planet get bombed some more, but I'll be damned if I keep any of our people in this camp longer than I have to. Seen too much."

_Our people… you're quite inclusive, Mr. Raynor._ _I'll have to ask some of the turians here about your command afterward._

"Kerrigan's been doin' most of the damage," said Raynor. "The Confederates sent three ghost teams, and she sent 'em all back on her own. She's in a class of her own, I guess."

"Yes, I'm quite glad she's on our side," said Adrien, remembering his initial encounter, the conversation they had in his own head. "You've fought in campaigns before, haven't you, Captain?" Adrien didn't wait for a response. "Is what happened in this camp normal?"

Raynor scratched his head, his ragged nails making a strange rasping sound against what hair of his had grown back. "Hard to say. KMC wasn't and isn't the same as the Confederacy. More money, but less equipment, less people. Standoffs like this ain't unheard of, but the fact that we had this kind of conflict all over the planet?" Raynor shook his head. "I'm honestly hopin' we don't have to do too much more of this, General. When can we expect the next round of casevac?"

"Soon enough," said Adrien, saluting. "I have seen all that I need to. Rest assured, Captain, you'll be out of here soon enough." Adrien left the tent, his two bodyguard following behind in silence.

The shuttle ride back to _Momentum_ was a quiet one. Adrien's entourage sat in unspeaking shock while he brooded on his upcoming talk with the Council. _I thought I would look forward to an update, but those promised reinforcements never arrived. I'm guessing I'm in for some bad news._ _I'm left wondering if the war council with Mengsk afterwards will actually prove a reprieve. At least the Antigan skirmish is over._

Adrien didn't remember what his trip to the QEC had been like. He kept remembering the way the soldiers had flung that hand almost absentmindedly into the trash can. Adrien was only able to pry himself away from that thought when he hit the button that would notify the Council that he was ready.

Their images appeared immediately, which Adrien knew was either a very good or a very bad sign. _They were waiting for me, which means they have significant news._ Adrien felt his chest tighten with anxiety. _In my experience, that news is rarely good._

"General Victus," said Sparatus, sounding as weary as Adrien felt. "You look terrible."

"I just visited the front lines," said Adrien, the strain quite evident in his voice. "Terrans are impossible to dislodge on the ground without significant air superiority. It leads to a kind of pseudo trench warfare that I am not fond of. Much of Antiga Prime lies in ruin, but the action was a success. The Confederate fleet recently retreated."

"That is good news," said Tevos, offering a small smile. "We are... quite glad to hear it. Unfortunately, we bring… well, rather dire tidings."

"We're pulling you all back," said Valern bluntly. "The zerg have somehow made it across the galaxy. Noveria is hit. Heshtok is hit. They're creeping towards the Citadel. You're needed back home."

Adrien felt a plummeting sensation in his stomach, coupled with a raw sense of fear and sudden pressure behind his eyes. _So, this campaign is over. A massive waste of lives and resources. I can't wait to tell Mengsk._

"Is that where the promised reinforcements went?" he asked angrily. "I would have dearly loved to know this ahead of time. The people down there – terran, turian, and asari – went through hell to take this planet, to further this war, and now we're about to abandon this sector? Some forewarning would have been-"

"Your reinforcements were intercepted," said Valern coldly. "Salarian Second Fleet ran afoul of the protoss. They took enormous casualties. No one gets through to the Koprulu Sector, now. We can only hope that they are more forgiving of people trying to leave it."

"Ran afoul?" growled Adrien. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"An attempt at diplomacy went awry," said Sparatus, eyes narrowing. "It is irrelevant, General. You have your orders. We've got reports of geth and even a protoss ship on the terran refugee world. We stand poised for the largest war the galaxy has ever seen, and we need you _here._ Mengsk is free to follow, we could use his ships, and an exile would be better for him than a defeat."

"Mengsk seems the type to accept neither," said Adrien. "But I suppose he has little choice. Speaking of choice, what happens if the protoss decide they do not want to let us through?" _I'll be damned if I have to withstand another battle with those bastards in my lifetime. The cost has proven itself too great three times over._

The Councilors looked at each other, panic evident in their eyes.

"I see," said Adrien. "I suppose I shall simply have to pray that the protoss have more common sense than we do. Is there anything else?"

Sparatus looked like he was about to reply, but then only shook his head.

"That will be all," said Tevos. "Best of luck, General. We – I am sorry to put this much pressure on you and your men. Give Benezia and Lidya my regards. I hope to see them again soon."

Their images winked out, leaving an utterly disgusted Adrien. He shouldered his way past confused crewman on the way out, his expression livid. He made his way for the waiting _Hyperion_-bound shuttle, and was surprised to see it occupied by Saren Arterius.

"Sir," he said, standing from his seat and saluting. "Arcturus Mengsk asked me to come along. A special request."

Adrien paused, and then just shook his head, trying to momentarily contain his disgust and anger.

"Very well," he said, sitting in a middle seat and strapping himself in, tugging at the restraints a little harder than he perhaps should have been. The Lieutenant remained at the other end of the shuttle, trying hard to ignore Adrien's foul mood. The shuttle took off without commotion, with Arterius staring pointedly away from Adrien.

When they landed, the two rose in silence, Adrien still brooding. They were taken through the halls of _Hyperion_, the terran crew standing to either side of the halls as Adrien went past, casting nervous glances at the obviously enraged general. When he walked through the double doors to Mengsk's council room, even the normally imperturbable Mengsk seemed a little alarmed at the expression on his face.

"Bad news, I take it?" he asked, sounding sympathetic. Adrien nodded. Admiral Lidya and General Janus stood together at the other side of the war table, while Mengsk himself was flanked by Duke and Harper. Benezia and Kerrigan stood to the side, apparently previously in discussion. They had fallen silent as Adrien entered.

"The war's over," said Adrien shortly. "The zerg are invading Council space. They're pulling us out."

Adrien felt the ripples of emotion through the air. From behind him, Saren was equal parts angry and afraid, though only a turian would recognize that he was the latter. Kerrigan kept her face emotionless, leaving Adrien frustrated as to what she was thinking. Duke swore angrily while the Magistrate's already drawn face looked even more exhausted. Lidya and Benezia only exchanged a glance, some kind of understanding coming between them. Janus looked like he was about to spit on _Hyperion's _carpet, and Adrien could empathize. But Mengsk…

"Then it seems we need to speed up our operation," said Mengsk. "Gentlemen – and ladies – I understand the desperation you may be feeling, the disappointment and anger. But I assure you this is most emphatically _not_ the end of this struggle. Commander Harper here has news that will change _everything._ Harper?"

Harper's face reddened, life returning to it. "Mengsk… you cannot be serious."

"I am deadly serious, Commander," said Mengsk, his voice growing louder. "This discovery seems to me to present a most serendipitous opportunity – one that will not only end this war, but weaken the foes that besiege us on all sides."

"Arcturus," said Harper, an unfamiliar desperate edge creeping into his tone, "I _implore_ you to consider other op-"

"I have, Commander," said Mengsk, voice falling to a hush. "Believe me. Now, will you tell our eager audience just what those files on Halcyon contained, or do you need some time in… isolation?"

Harper cast a disgusted glance at Mengsk before tapping a few buttons. The holographic image of some strange looking broadcast device appeared above them, casting the room in a faint blue hue.

"The files on Halcyon were heavily encrypted," said Harper. "I have burnt out all of my outstanding favors with Cerberus Squadron to get this done. Turns out they were encrypted with good reason." Adrien cast a glance at Kerrigan, wondering how much of this she was able to parse through telepathy. He saw her smile as he thought this, and she gave him a small wink.

"It's called a psi emitter," said Harper, tone growing stiff. "The zerg communicate through psionics, not sure on the specifics. Apparently they are attracted to particularly strong emissions." Harper gave Mengsk another foul look. "This device brings them running."

"And how exactly did the Confederates create this device?" asked Benezia. "I know they fought the zerg on Mar Sara, but this device must have been the culmination of extended research."

"You would be correct, Matriarch," said Mengsk. "In fact, zerg study has been a part of Confederate black ops research for quite some time. The first time I saw a zerg organism was in a Confederate lab over a year ago."

Adrien felt a jolt in his chest at this, and he was not alone in feeling shock. Mengsk continued, not giving anyone a chance to recover.

"It seems quite evident," said Mengsk, "that the Confederacy was planning on weaponizing these creatures. More astoundingly, they seem to have succeeded. The arrival of the zerg on Mar Sara was no accident, nor was this sudden, inexplicable invasion of your space. Mar Sara was a successful Confederate weapons test, and the Council forces gave the Confederacy a true target."

Something about this didn't quite gel with Adrien, but he wasn't sure why. He watched Mengsk closely, looking for any sign of hesitancy or fear. _I am not well-versed with terran body language, but from how Mengsk sounds he is either telling the truth or a born liar. Still… I feel like I am missing something._

Mengsk seemed to sense his doubt, for he cast his gaze upon Adrien next.

"Was this not a fortuitous turn of events for the Confederacy?" asked Mengsk. "Was it not enormously convenient for them, that when they reached their breaking point, sudden relief came in the form of a displaced zerg invasion? They had the technology, ladies and gentlemen. They had the motive. It seems only right to me that we repay their cruelty in kind. Duke?"

Duke started, but quickly composed himself. He cleared his throat.

"Er, the Confederate withdrawal from Antiga Prime can mean only one thing: we got 'em runnin' scared. We've gotten reports of widespread riotin' throughout the sector, as well as apparent encroachment of Kel-Morian Combine forces on the edge of Confederate space. So, the Confederate brass saw they had three options: quell the riotin' and put the populace under martial law, stretchin' themselves thin and then gettin' bowled over by either us or the KMC; knock us out of the picture, only to watch the civil unrest spiral out of control while the Combine picks off their outer worlds; or secure their core planets and either prepare for a major offensive or wait for a miracle."

"So, they chose the third option, apparently usin' the zerg to flank the galaxy, forcin' the bulk of our fleets back home. 'Course, that means they ceded any momentum or offensive operations to do so, and that probably wasn't good for morale. Right now, they're bunkerin' up around Tarsonis. If that planet were to fall, this war would be over."

"No," said Harper. "Mengsk, I will not allow this. There are over four billion people on that planet, if you think you can justify using these aliens-"

"Harper," said Mengsk, his voice taking a hard tone. "The next time you interrupt will be the last time. Let Duke finish, or I will remove you from this room."

Harper glanced at first Benezia, then Adrien in silent appeal. Benezia gave no indication that she noticed, and Adrien followed suit. _We need to consider all options… although if Mengsk and Duke are suggesting doing what I think they are doing, I bitterly hope we can find a better solution._

Harper gave them all a venomous look. "I'll remove myself, then," he spat, turning on his heel and not looking back. Adrien shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

"As I was sayin'," said Duke as if nothing had happened, "if Tarsonis falls, we win this war. Possibly within a matter of days, if not hours, assumin' the Old Families were swiftly dealt with. Now, I defended Tarsonis in over thirty major operations. The orbital defenses cannot be breached effectively by a force of our size. The stations surrounding the planet are cutting edge, and crewed by some of the finest men and women the Confederacy could muster." He laughed. "Or, well, they were. Alpha Squadron's defection probably left quite a deficit of talent."

"At any rate," Duke said, a gleam in his eye, "it would be possible for a small force, a dedicated force, to push their way through a single platform. They would not be able to move the rest of their forces to intercept us immediately – it would run the risk of gettin' hit in another area, and they're pretty weary of gettin' flanked by the Council by now – so they wouldn't shift until they knew there was a major breach. Then they'd close it, fast. If we overcommit there, that's the end of the operation, they'll come down like the hand of God, and I'd pity even the protoss if they got caught in that position. We'd only be able to slip a small team through…"

_Ah. I see._

"You would plant one of these emitters," said Adrien. "It would bring the zerg. Maybe the protoss. It would end the Confederacy."

"It would end the Confederacy," said Mengsk. "It would weaken the zerg. And yes, it might even weaken the protoss, if they choose to show themselves. The only people left standing afterward would be… us."

"No," said Kerrigan firmly, striding forward and shaking her head vigorously. "Arcturus, you can't do this." She looked back toward Benezia. "We'd be welcome in Council space, wouldn't we?"

Adrien cut off Benezia before she could say anything. "The Council made it clear that the Sons would be quite welcome to return with us," he said. "Considering the alternatives, it would probably be best."

"Arcturus, the Confederacy will fall eventually," said Kerrigan, "and the zerg are _monsters._ They'll feed on Tarsonis, just like they fed on Mar Sara. You'd only be strengthening them further-"

"Korhal's still intact nuclear arsenal says otherwise," said Mengsk coldly. "If the zerg win a total victory, if the protoss are unable to slow or stop them, the zerg's reward will only be ashes. We will be the only victors."

"You're trying to avenge your family, your world, I understand," said Kerrigan, leaving Adrien to wonder how often she had to confront someone whose mind she could not read. "You have to realize - this is insane. You would kill over four billion people – for what? Vengeance? An easy victory?"

"Easy?!" Mengsk snarled. "I watched my world burn, _Lieutenant. _Remember your place. Remember our history. The Confederacy has earned its punishment. And I have been far more lax in certain areas then I should have been." He gave her a meaningful look, though Adrien had no idea what it meant.

"Kerrigan," said Benezia, "I have my own reservations, I'm sure we all do. But if the Confederacy is already utilizing the zerg against the Council, it would be…"

"Expedient?" asked Kerrigan, prompting a start from Benezia. _Telepathy, Matriarch. It'll take some getting used to._ "It's not just. It's not right. Yes, you would kill the people responsible for Korhal, maybe for the zerg attacks. But you'd be taking their families, and their neighbors with them. Innocents." _And you'd hear them all die, wouldn't you Kerrigan?_

"We should call a vote," said Benezia coldly. "The Council is, after all, a democracy. And it seems to me we have eight present, with Harper already counting as a "no"."

Saren coughed at this. "I am only a lieutenant, Matriarch. I am not certain why I have been invited in the first place."

"You'll vote last then," said Benezia, "our tie breaker. It might not even be necessary."

Adrien raised his hand. "I suppose it bears mentioning that our reinforcements from Council space were intercepted by the protoss. Leaving this sector, if we choose to do that, may prove a difficulty." There was angry muttering at this, and Janus swore under his breath. "My apologies. Mengsk is hard to interrupt." This earned Adrien a smile from the man, though he hardly thought of it as a worthwhile compliment. _They killed his planet, true, but he is advocating setting the spirits damned _zerg_ on them. And then following that up with nuclear bombardment if necessary…_

"I vote no," said Kerrigan. "I did not join this cause only to see it become worse than what we were fighting against. How many of our soldiers have family down on Tarsonis?"

"I vote yes," said Duke. "I joined the Sons because I saw they were going to win sooner or later. The Confederacy is collapsin', and the faster it does that, the faster we can get to fendin' off the zerg." He shrugged. "Seems simple enough. I ain't gonna take any pleasure in it, but those bastards had it comin'."

"My vote is yes," said Mengsk, "I suppose that is rather obvious. Benezia?"

Benezia was obviously not thrilled about being put in the spotlight so soon, and Adrien had to silently commend Mengsk for calling the Matriarch out. _She wanted to wait and see which way the vote was going to go. Now, she's going to make herself look bad, one way or the other._

"When the rachni were pressing our borders," said Benezia, looking to the asari and turians in the room, "we used the krogan to end the threat. When the krogan began their rebellion, we utilized the Genophage. The zerg and protoss are worse than either of those threats, and we _need_ allies." She looked at Mengsk. "Could this technology be modified? Perfected? Could we use it to disrupt the zerg in any way?"

"I've heard tell of something called a "psi disrupter" being in development," said Mengsk, "Harper was telling me of it. I trust him, though he likely no longer reciprocates. We will most certainly be pursuing this avenue of research… if given the chance."

"We have the unique opportunity to pit two of our enemies against one another," said Benezia. "My vote is yes. Lidya?"

Admiral Lidya gave Benezia a look of disgust. "You been on the ground, mistress? You seen our losses? This sector is hell, and I'm not staying here any longer than I have to, protoss be damned. What if Thessia gets hit? No. We've given enough. I'm not selling my soul or risking my commandos for the sake of a smooth tongued terran."

Mengsk gave no reaction to this, but the room stilled slightly as the "no" rebounded through the room. Benezia apparently flustered, sat down, hands on her lap, unspeaking. _Your military officer claimed the moral high ground, Benezia. That has to be feel embarrassing._

"Victus?" prompted Mengsk, after a few moments of silence.

Victus gave them all a tired look. _On the one hand, I am tired of this sector and the peoples that live within it. On the other hand, I am loath to run back to Council space, having wasted all of these lives. And that still leaves the spirits-damned protoss…_

"The protoss have cut us off," said Victus. "We'll need a substantial amount of firepower just to push through. And I did not come this far only to give my men pointless and ignominious deaths at the hands of those bastards. Do you promise to come to our aid with all available men and ships when the fires settle, Mengsk?"

"You have my word," said Mengsk. _That's only a little encouraging._ Adrien knew the man would promise anything in that moment. _The follow-through… we can _make_ him help. Our ships still constitute the majority, even with Alpha Squadron._

He looked to Janus, and was discomfited by what he saw there.

"The Genophage was a last resort," he said simply, "and the Krogan Uplift was a mistake. And what we are suggesting isn't even out of desperation. We know there are other options. How invested are we in this conflict? Not invested enough to give up this much. To kill that many people. If Palaven was attacked by the zerg while we did this, General, how would history look upon us then?" He shook his head. "But, contrary to what Benezia said, the Hierarchy is not a democracy, and you were given the command. My vote is "yes," spirits damn you all."

_I'm sorry. _Adrien looked back to Saren, wondered what his vote would have been had it come to that. _He's lucky that it didn't. Hell of a thing, to do something like this._

"Good," said Mengsk. "Good. I thank you all for your participation. I brought Lieutenant Arterius here because I wanted him to be the one to plant the emitter."

"You've already made one?" said Benezia, surprised. Mengsk nodded.

"Our manufacturing complexes are quite capable, Matriarch. Give us the schematics, and it can be done. At any rate, I chose Arterius due to his exemplary prior performance. He will be brought to the surface of Tarsonis at great speed, and will have to work quickly. I am told he was able to set up a transmitter with limited materials on Mar Sara. And I know he will act with… discretion." Mengsk gave Saren a look. Saren, for his part, only stared back.

"Arcturus," said Kerrigan. "Please…"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," said Mengsk. "The terran people cannot stand divided while the zerg and protoss assault our borders, and the borders of our friends. The Confederacy stands in the way of that unity. Tomorrow, it dies."

Plans were made. And then they left, in twos and threes. Janus and Adrien left separately, neither looking at the other, with Saren trailing behind Adrien. _I suppose that tells me how Saren would have voted then._ He wondered what Saren's reasoning was.

The two stepped on the shuttle together.

"If you do this, we would have to make you a Spectre," said Adrien. "Moreover, you would have been a Spectre while you carried out this operation, you understand? This is the kind of op that never sees the light of day." He stared into space. "With your skills, and what you've survived, a nomination was only a matter of time anyway. You're a talented soldier, Arterius."

"Thank you, General," said Saren quietly.

Adrien carried out the rest of his duties with a kind of numbness he had never felt before. He listened to Mengsk ask the remaining Confederates on Antiga Prime to surrender, heard only static back. He ordered the bombardment afterward with a sick feeling in his gut.

Adrien announced the plans to hit Tarsonis to the people under his command, but didn't tell them how they planned to win. He spent the rest of the day overseeing the lengthy repairs of his damaged ships. _Thank the spirits the dreadnoughts are still untouched at least. Not that we will need them if everything goes perfectly._ This didn't make him feel any better.

Adrien didn't take any painkillers that night, feeling he deserved every throb of pain. He didn't sleep much as a consequence, and what little sleep he had was uneasy. When the alarm went off, he felt like he hadn't rested at all. _Good. Mass-murderers should never sleep easy._ He shook his head. _Too sentimental. This will destroy the Confederacy and inflict heavy casualties on the zerg. Then Mengsk will be ours, for good and all. Whether he likes it or not. And if I consider myself a mass murderer, what would Saren be?_ Adrien closed his eyes. _I doubt he slept at all._

When Adrien made it to the bridge, he was ready. He stood tall, betraying not a hint of exhaustion or hesitation.

"Broadcast to the terrans," he ordered. The crew complied.

"General Victus," said Mengsk, sounding slightly tense. "I don't suppose you or any of your men have seen Commander Harper, have you?"

_They would have told me if they had._ "I'm afraid not," said Adrien. "Has something happened?"

"He's gone missing," Mengsk said simply. "And that is cause for a great deal of worry. I've seen his record. Frankly I'm astounded that he objected to this, after some of the things he's done. He's a little late in his life to have regrets."

_Spoken like someone who's never had any._ Adrien brought his hands to his head, but lowered them quickly. _The crew cannot witness my doubt._

"I cannot say," said Adrien in clipped tones. "We're ready over here. The asari?"

"Ready," said Lidya, voice nibbled by static, but still sounding extremely angry. "For the record, if there was the slightest chance I thought I could force my way through the protoss, we would have gone home. Like the Council ordered us to."

"There will be no record," said Mengsk carefully. Turians listening in on the conversation looked at each other, confused. A flight officer even approached Adrien, but then backed away after a moment's hesitation. _Damn it, Admiral. If you split these fleets apart, then we all die. And the moment you hand this kind of decision to the rabble, there will be chaos._

"We are ready, General," said Mengsk. "The package is standing by, as is the one who will deliver it. Have you given the orders?"

"The fleets will position themselves as you requested," said Adrien, feeling mounting trepidation. "We will cover your advance. Whenever you're ready."

_Spirits help me, I hope Tarquin never learns of this._

"Begin your jump. We'll see you there."

Adrien gave the order. The asari fleet disappeared first, and the turians followed suit. Adrien took the time to commend every officer and soldier he came across, reminding them of the distance they had come to bring about the downfall of the Confederacy, to secure the future of the Council.

When he came across Janus, however, there was only silence.

"I wonder how well the turians who deployed the Genophage slept, Victus," said Janus quietly. "It was a necessary measure, but an utterly evil one. The alternative was extinction. Can you claim you have that kind of excuse?"

"Did you want to face the protoss without significant terran backing, Janus?" asked Adrien. "Because that is how it would have ended. Our fleets, against the protoss. You know how that would have gone."

Janus's mandibles shifted. He did not know what to say.

Adrien did everything he could to salvage his conscience. Commending troops, complimenting people on their performance, visiting the wounded, it did nothing. He could only wonder, helplessly, what Jim Raynor would say if he had been there. _I know what his vote would have been. But uncompromising morals seldom lead to victory. Raynor has a hard road ahead of him._

With two minutes until the jump would complete, Adrien waited, occasionally forgetting to breathe. _What did I teach Tarquin? Courage and honor. But what does the Hierarchy demand? Victory. Honor can slide when we are pressed._ The image of Mar Sara burning flashed through his mind. _And we are pressed._

_Let's get this over with._

The fleet entered realspace with a faint pop, beginning scans at Adrien's command. The readout loaded, and Adrien took a long look at the world whose people he was about to destroy.

Adrien's first impression of Tarsonis was that the terrans were lucky to have worlds like it. It was a garden world, plenty of vegetation and oceans visible from orbit. Hugging many coasts and dotting the occasional cleared plain were the lights of civilization, shining brightly into the heavens. _Makes it hard to justify what I'm doing, seeing it like this. _

Adrien's second impression cleared that right up, when the ladar lit up with hundreds of signatures.

"Spirits," muttered a nearby technician.

Battlecruisers hung in the air, Wraith wings floating to either side of them. Everywhere there was a break in the line of cruisers, it was only because they had placed an orbital platform or one of what the terrans called "science vessels." It was a bristling wall of steel, engines, and weapons as far as the eye could see. Tarsonis stood ready to repel any attack.

_Well, except one._

"Lidya, you ready?" asked Adrien.

"Assuming position, just out of range covering the southern continent," said Lidya, anger replaced by focus and fear. "_Destiny Ascension_ guns prepped and loaded."

"This is _Norad II_," said Duke. "We are freshly arrived, and pissed as hell. You, turian. You in position?"

_I despise this buffoon._

"We are fanning out," said Adrien. "We are spanning the east continent, ready to assist with the push. Is Mengsk's fleet ready?"

"I am ready," said Mengsk. "Duke, begin the push."

"About time," said Duke, happily. "Alpha Squadron, pushin' up."

Adrien watched the scans as _Norad II,_ accompanied by a small detachment of Duke's Alpha Squadron, a detachment of Blackwatch troops, and asari commandos, made for the closest platform. _They're loaded with the best our races have to offer. And their job is arguably the easy part._

"Local defense forces didn't like that," reported the helmsman. "Intercept?"

"Dispatch Ninth Squadron, and move up _Momentum _to begin long range assault," said Victus. "Keep them back. We only need to buy them an hour and a half at most." _Assuming Duke is as good as he says he is. He surprised me at Antiga Prime, but this is of a different scale._ "Keep an eye on the Science Vessels."

"Copy, Ninth is engaging," said Captain Titus. Adrien looked to the holographic display of Tarsonis. The asari fleet was pointed up, facing the south of the planet, threatening but not yet engaging. Ninth Squadron was separating from the turian fleet and moving toward the wall of shifting terran vessels. _They're our least damaged Squadron. They should be able to hold out the longest._

"We have a target," said the helmsman. "Permission to engage?" Adrien nodded.

"Fire twice, and then reacquire. We don't need stray rounds hitting the planet." _The zerg arrival needs to be convincing… and I'll spare the residents of Tarsonis as much suffering as I can._

"Gun firing!" Adrien felt the vessel shake slightly as the dreadnought dispensed its payload. _Once every two and a half seconds. _The battlecruiser on scan turned in place, engines thrusting to kill its own momentum. He saw the recognizable buildup of energy. _Yamato. That round better connect before it finishes._

Thankfully, it did. The terrans, fixated on making armor that would repel small missiles and laser batteries, were unprepared for the sheer scale of dreadnought slugs. The first round slammed into the cruiser, causing its engines to stutter as the vessel experienced massive system failure. The second almost punched its way through the ship entirely, causing it to crumple and combust in place.

"Pick a new target and fire twice," said Victus. "Eighth, Fourth, reposition yourselves to cover us. We cannot give them a clear line of attack on our dreadnoughts. Seventh, Second, cover _Valor._ _Valor, _pick targets. So long as they stay off of Duke, our mission is secure." _Spirits, how did they build this many cruisers?_ _The fact they take two slugs to put down is rather disheartening, once you see how many they have._ Adrien's mandibles shifted, his heart hardening as he looked at the line of ships. _The zerg will have their work cut out for them._

"This is Duke," said Duke. "Girlie and Hick are cuttin' their way through enemy lines, and Alpha Squadron's followin' close. Plenty of resistance, just not much of it competent. Delta Squadron always was green. We're making good progress."

_Mengsk sent Kerrigan and Raynor._ Adrien felt sick. _I'll bet he told Raynor nothing. And Kerrigan… spirits, what are we doing? _

It was too late to stop, however. The terran battlecruisers closest to Duke's assault were continually moving to intercept, only to have to twist and engage the turians. Unfortunately for the defenders, it was clear their leadership, these "Old Families" had skewed priorities.

_They're not allowed to leave the defensive line, even when it would be tactically prudent to do so. They have to hug the planet and try to hit us with their Yamato._ It wasn't working, but Adrien knew it was only a matter of time before either someone changed their orders, or a captain disagreed with the idea of letting himself, his ship, and his crew be ended by _Momentum's _guns. _It seems recruiting Duke was an excellent idea. He knew exactly what the Confederacy would do._

"Without that Magistrate fellow, we ain't interceptin' much comms," said Duke, "but I can tell their patience is wearin' thin. Only a matter of time before they send someone to kick your teeth in, birdie. You got a good formation?"

"Our dreadnoughts are covered," was all Adrien said. _Although, the front line of cruisers and frigates is in for a terrible time of it once the battlecruisers move in._ "Progress?"

"Almost through," said Duke as the hologram showed a fresh wave of energy. "Mengsk gave us some of his nuclear arsenal. It's makin' getting through the line quite a bit easier. Give us a few more minutes."

Unfortunately, it was in these "few more minutes" that the Confederates had enough. The line of vessels suddenly began to advance in all directions, pushing out like the fragments of a grenade.

"Fourth, fully engaged here! BCs all over, we got-"

Comms went dead. _Science vessel._ Adrien didn't have the foggiest idea why terran science vessels came with such extensive offensive capabilities. _Aggressive science, maybe. _Another ship on the readout vanished, even though there was apparently nothing nearby. _Wraiths. We're not going be able to hold here much longer._

"Sixth, move to reinforce Fourth while they try to restart," said Adrien, knowing that the prospects for most of Fourth Squadron were dim at best. "_Valor_, watch for defensive matrices. We're not getting through those in a hurry."

"Strike team is through!" said General Duke, making Adrien breathe a silent sigh of relief. _Not much longer now._ It was when he remembered what he was waiting for that he felt a wave of revulsion. _Yes, I positively can't wait for the violent end of about four billion people. I'm giddy with excitement._ "We're holdin' here, for now. Birdie, you look like you're in a heap of trouble."

_He's not wrong._ Adrien still did not dignify that with a response. "Lidya, what's your status?" asked Adrien, watching the ships on screen exchange closer and closer weapons fire. _Momentum's _guns were firing twice, over and over. _No shortage of targets._

"Nothing going on over here," said Lidya. "I think the terrans are pretty angry at you and Duke. Hold on, I'll-"

"Stand your position, Admiral," cut in Mengsk suddenly, having been silent for most of the action. "It is critical that you cut off escape from that continent."

"Cut off escape?" asked Lidya. "Listen, Arcturus, I don't take orders from you, and the turians are getting hammered. I'll-"

"Emitter active," said Duke, "here we go." The turians on the bridge looked at each other, confused.

"General," said the helmsman, "is there something we're not being told? We got a strike force through, but what's that going to-"

The hologram froze momentarily. When it rebooted, it was to show thousands upon thousands of new signatures – directly on top of the asari fleet.

"No," said Adrien, looking at the screen as it froze again, and the wave of signatures became even thicker above where Lidya and Benezia's people were. "No."

"General, we've got signatures all over!" said the helmsman. "Confederacy is disengaging, repeat, disengaging. We've got…"

"Zerg," said Janus quietly, standing behind Adrien. "What a surprise."

"All crews, conduct emergency jump to these coordinates," said Adrien, voice trembling. _They were about to help us… she told us not to do this. Janus did as well. Kerrigan… why didn't I listen? _Adrien tapped the planet's readout keys a few times, giving a position for each squadron that formed a half shell above, relative to the planet, Lidya's position. _That way, we won't be at risk of hitting the planet at the very least._ "Mengsk, get people over there, right now!"

"Of course, General," came Mengsk's calm reply. Large sections of zerg on the readout were now descending into the upper atmosphere of Tarsonis, but many more were wheeling and circling the now barely visible asari fleet. An occasional flare, likely caused by _Destiny Ascension_, was all Adrien could see.

The fleet emergency jumped, and Adrien got a much better picture of what was going on.

"Find targets," said Adrien, voice now actively shaking. "Fire. Fire until it stops, until it all stops."

The dreadnought rounds sheared away huge clusters of zerg, bits of wing and carapace scattering into the solar winds. _Momentum _shuddered over and over, firing into the roiling mass of teeth and hate.

When sections of zerg began peeling off from the frenzy and starting toward Adrien, all he felt was satisfaction at diverting some of the heat from the asari. When a large, seemingly moon-sized zerg tore itself free of its brethren, Adrien only dared it to approach. _Come on, eat me instead. No terrans, no asari. Just turian guns._

Mengsk was nowhere to be seen. The huge zerg approached with the kind of casual fury that reminded Adrien of an errant asteroid or hurricane, something natural yet terrible. Both dreadnoughts threw slug after slug into it, and saw a small lake's worth of blood emptying from the creature. Still it came, barging through a frigate in the process, barreling towards Adrien. _As if it knows. Perhaps it does. Come on._

_Momentum_ was turning, trying to dodge the creature. With a final shudder, it loosed the last guaranteed hit into the zerg monstrosity, and the creature came apart in an orgy of drifting guts and chemical looking liquid. The main mass, propelled still by its momentum, flying past where _Momentum _used to be and sailing through the void, doubtless to someday puzzle a passing spacefarer. Adrien felt the bizarre urge to laugh. That urge only became stronger when another surge of zerg appeared, apparently from nowhere, directly on top of them.

There was no use attempting strategy. The zerg had robbed them of all opportunity or reason. Their winged creatures ate up GARDIAN lasers and cruiser fire alike, dying by the hundreds. The smaller winged creatures were only a blip on the readout, but exploded with the ferocity of a small nuke, crippling frigates with a suicidal glee. Adrien calmly relayed orders as he tried to keep track of his ships, knowing that no one was really listening. There was still no sign of Mengsk.

More of the bigger zerg arrived, but they mostly seemed intent on getting to Tarsonis's surface. After pulling apart or melting three or four cruisers, they'd move on to the upper atmosphere, belching new zerg fliers all the way.

The Confederacy were barely registering to Adrien now. He remembered them briefly, panicked as he thought they would take advantage of the chaos, but then relaxed as he remembered that was his role. Their ships, for the most part, had abandoned the defensive line and followed the zerg down into the planet. On a sickening whim, Adrien requested a visual of Tarsonis. To his surprise, someone brought it up promptly, just in time to see an enormous mushroom cloud climbing into space, visible from even such a great distance. _What have I done? _

When the zerg finally fell away altogether, it was a sudden shock. To Adrien, it felt less like they had beaten the fearsome bugs back, and more like they had abruptly lost interest or had been called away. The last traces of zerg fell into Tarsonis, wings beating frantically, tendrils trailing behind. Adrien was left with a sea of distress signals. What was left of his fleet… was not worth calling a fleet. What was left of the asari-

"Sir, that mushroom cloud," said an aide, shaking his arm. "Sir it was-"

"_Destiny Ascension_," muttered Adrien. There was nothing left of the asari. The zerg had swarmed the fleet and stripped it. Stripped it of metal, of resistance, of life. Third Fleet's continued existence, even consisting of only four intact frigates, six intact cruisers, and _Momentum _itself, was a miracle.

_And we set those bastards loose on the planet…_

Adrien stared at the visual some more, imagining what Tarsonis would look like when the zerg were done. _Cored, like a fruit? Dried up and lifeless? Or burnt up and discarded, at the hands of the protoss?_

"General, we're being hailed," said the aide. Adrien nodded, cleared his throat.

"General Victus," said the voice of Mengsk, now actually sounding reassuring after such an onslaught. "We were intercepted by the Confederacy en route. Is there anything left of the asari?"

"Just what Duke's strike team brought," said Adrien in a lifeless voice. "The zerg fell on them almost exactly. We did what we could. We couldn't fight our way through."

"You fought valiantly," said Mengsk. "The sacrifices of every soldier here, Confederate, asari, turian – they will all be remembered. This is a day that will live on in infamy, General. These were my losses as well."

"We will need to return to Council space as soon as possible," said Adrien, all too aware that his career was over. _I went against orders, and it ended in the destruction of no less than two full Council fleets. Tarsonis should have been my grave._ "How soon can you establish order, Mengsk?"

"I will of course rally my people," said Mengsk. "I am arranging an explosive speech to be presented before Miss Wong. Still, the losses here will slow things down, and I will need time to organize my forces. Cull the ghosts, neutralize surviving Old Family members, contact the Umojan Protectorate… it could take some time."

"We need those reinforcements _now_, Mengsk," said Adrien, feeling himself begin to shake with a mixture of rage and fear. "Particularly with our forces as they are. You owe us. You owe us everything."

"I do indeed owe the Council a great deal, more than I could ever hope to repay in light of this tragedy," said Mengsk, "but in a realistic time frame. You cannot expect to collect on this debt all at once, General. Proper aid will take several months, perhaps a year or two. I cannot hope to establish an empire in the space of a few days or weeks."

"You can, and I will," said Adrien. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Janus shake his head with an expression that was bitter rage tempered by extreme sorrow. "I did not come this far to be extorted. If I must take your assistance by force, I will."

"With what ships?" asked Mengsk bluntly.

And it was with that sentence, punctuated by three more mushroom clouds on Tarsonis, that Adrien remembered Mengsk's insistence about the asari's position and realized that the arrival of the zerg on top of them had been no accident.


	25. Bridges and Buildings, Burning

**James**

_Ten minutes. Ten minutes since the zerg arrived._ Jim had checked with Matt Horner twice as they ran through the corridors of _Norad II_, followed closely by the ashen-faced Sarah Kerrigan.

The Rangers had led the strike through the orbital platform, accompanied by a team of turians and asari. Resistance had been heavy, but Duke's liberal use of the Korhal nuclear arsenal and _Norad II's_ Yamato gun had punched through the thickest parts of the Confederate lines. Jim was still in his combat suit, weapon in hand, a few errant holes punched in the chest and shoulders (none had hit his body, fortunately) and still a little achy from the wounds sustained storming the very ship he was on, but otherwise none the worse for wear. _Excusin' the fact that the zerg just hit the most populous planet in the sector._

Jim felt flashes of familiarity as he ran, heavy combat boots pounding the neosteel, remembering his brief, stimpack fueled race to the bridge. Duke waited for him this time as well, though hopefully it would not be with violence in mind. _Hell, I'd still love to lay him out, but we need this ship._

The double doors opened with what seemed like a resounding crash. Jim reduced his run to a fast, purposeful stride, barging through two aides as he did so. Matt and Sarah flanked him to either side; Matt still in his pilot suit, Sarah in her ghost armor. Duke watched the three of them approach wearily, and two of his Alpha Squadron goons edged a little closer as Jim closed the distance, their C14s at the ready.

Jim stopped before the General, who wiped some sweat from his brow, eyed the twisting readout of ships and zerg, and then shot Jim a glance.

"Now, I know this is gonna upset ya, but I'm gonna need you to man up and deal with it. Arcturus was very clear with his instructions: we are to hold position here and stay the hell out of the way of them zerg. You Rangers have done good work, but I-"

"Save it," snarled Jim, causing one of the Alpha Squadron marines to take a half step forward. "This ain't about followin' orders, or even winning this war. There are four billion people down there, and we've got the manpower and ship to make a difference. Get down there, Duke. You know it's the right thing." _Feel like it's a waste of breath… he already abandoned Mar Sara, what's one more planet?_

"Well now," said Duke, actually swallowing and taking a step backward. "Don't think this ain't hard for me, Raynor. I defended this planet for decades. I know people down there. But Mengsk is a man I've decided against crossin', for the sake of myself and my men." He shot Kerrigan a guarded look. "You told him anything, girlie?"

Jim furrowed his brow, looked back and forth between the two. Kerrigan's mouth made a hard line, and Jim didn't even see her feet move as she crossed the distance between herself and Duke.

Kerrigan's hands seemed to blur and Duke twisted, struck by several quick blows. A cry went out, but before even Jim could lift his weapon, he was knocked backward by a solid wave of force. The marines to either side of Duke yelled as they shot backwards against the walls of the bridge, steel crumpling beneath them. A sudden calm descended, with Kerrigan standing in the center, an unconscious Duke at her feet. No one dared move.

"Jim," she said very calmly, "I need you to get on the intercom and tell everyone that isn't interested in saving lives and getting the hell away from Mengsk to leave the ship. Everyone else in the room – make one move and I'll crush your skull with my mind." Jim just gawped at Kerrigan, who returned his gaze with a steely glare. "Get on it, Jim."

Jim remembered to give a (strained) smile, nodding. He crossed to where Duke had been standing and hit the button.

"Alright boys and girls, there's been a change of plan. Mengsk's orders were to hold here and watch the zerg eat everybody down below. Duke fell asleep, and we'll be dumpin' his unconscious body outside for safekeepin'." He looked to Kerrigan, who nodded. _Good. I want him off this ship, but I ain't about to put a bullet in him outside of a fair fight._ "If you're thinkin' about takin' offense to this, I encourage you to leave the ship before either Kerrigan or them Blackwatch boys down below find ya. Rangers – kick dissidents off the ship. We're commandeering _Norad II _and gettin' the hell away from the Sons of Korhal." He released the button and spared a sideways glance for the three bridge crew closest to him, who had their hands in the air. "Stayin'?"

One of them shook his head, but the other two, a lady and man respectively, gave tentative nods.

"Got family down below," said the lady crew shortly. "How the hell did this happen?"

_Good question._ Jim looked back to Kerrigan, who was hurriedly escorting a fleeing line of flight officers. _She know something? And how long do we have before the protoss show up? _

"We're going to need to dump those marines," said Kerrigan shortly, pointing to the crumpled forms of Duke's goons. Jim dragged them, grunting, through the rapidly emptying halls, bringing them into the hangar where he and Jenny dumped both of them in a shuttle.

The hangars had been filled with fleeing Alpha Squadron personnel, none of which were making eye contact with Jim. Even the marines were leaving with scarcely a whimper, though the presence of a small pile of fellow Alpha Squadron corpses in a corner next to four glaring Blackwatch operatives might have explained it. _Warned 'em. They're lucky Kerrigan didn't make their brains explode._

_Thirty minutes in._

_Norad II _was emptying far too slowly for Jim's liking, and when he checked the readout on the bridge, it was to find the turian fleet being partially engulfed by the roiling crowd of zerg. _This is a nightmare._

Horner was feverishly directing bridge personnel to take readings and make minor repairs. He gestured for Jim to come over, tapping his feet all the while.

"The southern continent is basically gone," said Matt. "Heavy fighting all over, but the zerg are too thick. Best we can do is evacuate elsewhere, in places the Confederacy isn't. Any trouble anywhere on the ship?"

"Nothin' the turians couldn't deal with," said Jim wearily. "Matt, you think you can helm this thing? I'm pretty sure Kerrigan could handle it, but I'd much rather have her on the ground, beatin' zerg to death with her brain."

"I've handled ships like this before," said Matt, before coughing and nodding to himself. "I mean, not quite the same size, and never with this much weaponry, but I can do this, sir. I'm ready to save some lives."

"I ain't a sir," said Jim uneasily, "and we've got a stop to make first. Saren's down there, and he once called down a fleet to save my life, my people. I think we can manage scooping him up, right?"

Horner gave another uneasy glance at the readout. "Pardon my language, sir, but it's a real clusterfuck down there. I'd check with Kerrigan. She should be back in a minute."

Jim waited, feeling his heart race, wondering how bad the ground would be. _Bigger than Mar Sara. More people to deal with. Definitely more zerg. _His gaze kept returning to the planet's readout. _Don't know what to think if the protoss show up. Have a feeling they'd take one look at the planet and blow it sky high. Not sure I'd blame 'em._

When Kerrigan returned to the bridge, it was in a heavily bloodstained suit. She wasted no time reaching Horner and Jim, ignoring the exclamations of surprise from nearby crew members.

"Had a few troublemakers in the lower decks," said Sarah shortly, a hard look in her eyes. "They were planning on staying aboard and pretending to help before storming the bridge. They're not a problem anymore." Her gaze softened and she focused on Jim. "Question?"

"Yeah," said Jim, feeling a little nervous at Sarah's demeanor and blood-soaked appearance. "We need to grab Saren. He's down below, might be dead. But if he isn't, I owe him one or two."

Sarah bit her lip, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

"We… can do that," she said. "I've still got his frequency. If his dropship is still up, I can get ahold of him. Is the ship ready?"

"Let me check," said Matt, walking to the bridge's communication console and tapping a few keys with a swiftness born of confidence and experience. "Come in, hangar? We need to get a move on. Has everyone cleared out?" Jim couldn't hear the response, but Matt nodded and gave a small smile. His head turned and he flashed a thumbs up. "It's as good as it's going to get, sir. Shall I make the descent?"

Jim's heart thudded faster. _Never wanted to face the zerg again if I could help it. But this ain't about want._

"Yeah, Matt," said Jim. "Try not to crash into anyone. And if you see Confederate ships, make clear we're here to help." He tapped his suit's red painted chest plate, flicked at the Sons of Korhal image of an arm holding a whip. "We're still wearin' Korhal colors." _And we're gettin' repainted as soon as humanly possible._

Matt sucked in a deep breath and straightened. "Alright people, we're doing a fast drop at these coordinates," he bellowed, tapping more keys and zeroing in on the east continent as sweat began to form on his brow. _Atlantia. It's called Atlantia._ "We're going to need search lights on – it's the night side of the planet. No zerg presence as of yet in the city proper, but no Confederate presence either. We are to open our hangars while a ground team assists local defense forces with evacuation efforts. We only have about eighty dropships, but our capacity is about six times that, so we'll be taking people in." He gave Jim a questioning look that plainly asked if he was "doing good." Jim gave him a slow nod, which seemed to perk Matt right up. When he spoke next, any sense of trepidation or hesitance was gone. _Good, Matt. Take charge._ "Once we have evacuated everyone we are able, we will be dropping off evacuees at the Tarsonis Aleph orbital platform. We will then hit another target, based on zerg presence at that point. And so forward. Stations, people!"

Jim shifted inside his suit, feeling the sweat drenching his chest and limbs underneath. _Stations…_ His place was not on the bridge. He began a light jog back to the hangars, being careful not to bowl anyone over on the way back. Kerrigan was following quietly behind him, not saying a word. It was only when they reached the hangar doors that she spoke.

"Hey Jim, can we have a second?" She did not sound happy.

Jim turned, towering over Sarah in his armor. "What's up, Sarah? Somethin' about what Duke said?"

"Yeah," said Sarah, green eyes flicking between the Sons of Korhal symbol on Jim's armor and Jim's face. "You remember that data we snagged on Halcyon a while ago?"

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, sort of. Never heard back from the Magistrate on what that data was. Did he ever crack through it?" Something occurred to Jim at that point. "And… where the hell is he? He wasn't givin' us the orders this time around, it was Duke."

"Those two things are very related," said Sarah, grimacing along with Jim as _Norad II _began to descend from orbit. Sarah even had to shift her footing slightly. "The data… Jim, the zerg are attracted to psionic emissions. The Confederacy were studying them, created a device to attract them. It's what brought the things to Mar Sara…" Sarah shut her eyes and took a sharp breath. "…and here. Mengsk made his own emitter and used it to break the Confederacy. I voted against it, and so did Harper, but Victus and the Matriarch saw nothing wrong with ending the war on their terms. It ended with Harper disappearing and the zerg on top of the asari and turian fleets."

Jim's heart had slowed. He felt some kind of burning, acid sensation crawling through his chest. Pressure formed beneath his eyes, and the grip on his gun tightened. All he could hear now was the thin whistle of his breath being sucked through barely open lips, followed by a sudden exhale. _Remember when they called the Sons of Korhal terrorists? Remember when Darla Perkins died, and Mengsk offered a blanket pardon to all crimes committed during the uprising? Remember when Confederate camps vanished under wave after wave of weapon's fire from the turian armadas? Remember, remember, remember?_

"Jim?" asked Sarah, looking increasingly worried as his breath and thinking sped up. "Jim?"

"Is that what the strike team was carryin'?" asked Jim quietly. "Did Saren know?"

Sarah's inability to give a coherent answer within a reasonable frame of time told Jim all he needed to.

"Right," Jim said, before casting a disgusted look at the floor. "Don't change what needs doin'. From what I saw, there ain't gonna be many turians left in the sector soon. And I still owe him. Just 'cause the world's filthy, don't mean it stands to commit evil acts." _What my parents taught me. Turning away the money… can't justify horrible actions in the name of righteousness, justice, or even desperation. Leads to people like Mengsk. Leads to institutions like the Confederacy… or this "Council," apparently._ "Come on."

The double doors glided open with a hiss, and Sarah followed Jim without saying anything more.

Most of the wounded Rangers had left, likely to the medbay. What remained were an assortment of extremely nervous looking Alpha Squadron, grim faced asari commandos, equally grim faced turians (still standing close to the pile of bodies they had made,) and what was left of his Rangers after their ill-fated Korhal campaign.

"Ya'll ready to save some folks?" asked Jim. It wasn't like Mar Sara this time. No one was clamoring to do what needed to be done. There were a few nods, perhaps a murmured "yes" here and again, but most people only acknowledged Jim by trudging to the dropships.

Jim followed Jenny for old time's sake, accompanied by Kerrigan and a handful of other Rangers. Jim sat between the two women, looking to either side of him and comparing the two. _Heh, you'd think Jenny, with the missing teeth and the tattoos would be the more hardened killer of the two. Sarah's just a little thing…_ Sarah's head snapped up at that, looking at Jim. _But she reads thoughts. Can kill people with her mind._

"Everyone in the hangar," said Matt over the intercom, sound quite breathless. "Rangers, Blackwatch, everyone. We're closing on New Gettysburg now. No sign of Confederacy or zerg." The dropship had filled up, a former Alpha Squadron pilot clambering into place. "Lots of ground and air traffic out of the city, but most it has nowhere to go. Try to keep them from panicking, and get as many out as you can."

Jim say back in his seat, resting his head and neck against the back of his suit. He looked down at Sarah, who looked deep in thought. He remembered her brief account of her time as a Confederate ghost during the dinner. _Something I meant to ask._

"When they sent back word of what happened to Johnny," said Jim softly, "they said "shuttle accident." It's a weird thing to worry about, now, but can you tell me what that meant… without the Confederate's bullshit?"

Sarah closed her eyes, gave it a few second's thought. "Either meant the mental or physical stress of training was too much for him, or maybe an instructor pushed too hard and left him a vegetable… or maybe it was a shuttle accident." She gave him a sad look. "You had good reasons to want to fight the Confederacy, Jim. I don't think there was a right choice for you to make there."

"Sure there was," said Jim, shortly. "Always is. Coulda chosen not to fight. Half the Rangers wouldn't be here now. I'd be safe in Council space. Maybe Mengsk wouldn't have been able to pull this off." Jim shook his head. The pilot had started tapping instruments, and the dropship's engine had roared into life. "Don't know why I asked. Guess I always wanted to. Maybe whatever Mengsk sets up afterward with the Council will be better than the Confederacy." _In the same way that bein' shot in the head is better than bein' set on fire._ He leaned forward. "Pilot?"

The pilot leaned back, revealing a man with impressive sideburns and a distinctly angry expression on his face. "It's Victor. What do you want?"

"Victor, sorry," said Jim. "We're going to make a brief detour to pick up the strike team we helped force through the blockade. That alright?"

"Weren't they birds?" asked Victor, clearly implying this was not worth the effort. Kerrigan leaned forward from her seat, and Victor's reaction meant he had clearly not seen her. "Shit, the spook's on board? Alright, if she's into it, so am I. Got coordinates?"

"Hang on," said Sarah. Victor returned to his instruments and the dropship began to lift. Kerrigan's hand fastened on her ear. "Lieutenant Arterius, this is Kerrigan. Come in, you there?"

Jim heard a faint hiss, but it was followed by a response. Kerrigan's eyes narrowed. "We're close by. How many zerg?" _Shit._ The response was hurried, and Jim thought he could hear the faint thud of gunshots. "We'll be there. Hold on, Lieutenant." Kerrigan leaned forward again. "Victor! Follow Highway 94 south from the city. When we get close enough, I should be able to feel him out. He's crash landed in some woods half a klick from the highway. Minor zerg presence."

"Forgive me if I seem a little unenthusiastic," said Victor, though Jim had to guess he was complying as Kerrigan gave no protest. "When we're done with this, can we get back to saving real people?"

"Somethin' crawl up your ass, Victor?" asked Jim. "We're here to save everyone we can, irrespective of species. You got a problem with that?"

"I got a problem with usin' all these aliens to solve our problems," said Victor. "I signed up with Alpha Squadron to protect terran interests. You know. People. Wasn't happy with Duke's defection, but seemed like it was the winnin' side." Victor clicked his tongue. "Shoulda known this was what winnin' looks like."

Jim wondered how much he knew, but didn't want to press it. There were other marines in the shuttle as well, and if they were at all like Jenny, they'd want to push for _Hyperion_ and blow Mengsk out of the air for what he had done. _And that's not a fight we can win._ He wondered idly where Mengsk was, whether he had noticed that _Norad II _had left the space platform. _It ain't goin' unnoticed for too much longer, that's for sure._

"We are in the pipe," said Victor. "Pourin' with rain, dark as hell. 'Course it is. Can barely see the highway, but followin' it just the same. Instruments functional. No sign of zerg."

"Other ships," said Jim after patching in. "Rangers, Blackwatch, whatever. I'm makin' a brief detour to pick up the strike team. Most of you were there for Mar Sara's evacuation. Same thing applies, only we have a bit more time. Got capacity for about twenty-four hundred people before we have to ship 'em off to Aleph. Don't know if we can make a second trip. Should be back in the city with you before long."

"Head east here," said Kerrigan sharply. "You'll see weapons fire."

"Got it, ma'am," said Victor. Jenny gave Jim a dark look.

"Seems like the zerg own this sector," said Jenny. "No one standin' up to them. Hell, even if the protoss show up, fryin' the planet's only denyin' them ground, nothin' more. How's this going to end?"

"Let's just focus on getting' our guys out," said Jim. "Small steps."

Sarah shifted in her seat suddenly and put her hands out. Her eyes were shut, but Jim could see rapid movement through the lids. When she opened them, she was quite still.

"They're attracted to psionic emissions," said Sarah. She turned her head to Jim, eyes wide in the shifting lights of the dropship. "Jim, we might have a pr-"

There was a sudden hiss followed by metallic tapping sound, and Jim saw parts of the floor buckle. Something small and sharp punched a hole in the bottom of the craft before flying past Jim's face. The spiny projectile quivered where it had landed, embedded an inch deep in the craft.

Jim swore at the same time as Victor and about half the rest of the crew. The dropship turned sharply, pressing Jim, Sarah, and Jenny against the craft. A marine opposite them twitched suddenly as the vessel was further impacted, several of the spines piercing his chest plate without any apparent effort.

"We gotta drop!" yelled Jim, hitting the button of his buckle while Victor roared an affirmation back. The other marines in the craft leapt to their feet as well. The rear hatch screamed open, revealing the many dark outlines of trees speeding by far more quickly than Jim would have liked.

_Nothing for it, though._ Jim gritted his teeth while the people in the front surged out the craft, disappearing into the dark. Jim followed suit, heart pounding all the while. He leapt into the night, letting his visor fall down over his face.

The drop was fast and terrifying. Branches lashed at Jim during the final few seconds, turned away by his armor. The horizon, when he could glimpse it, was mostly the kind of familiar inky blackness Jim could remember seeing on Shiloh, but he could see a distant orange glow that heralded the oncoming death of the planet.

When Jim's boots met the ground, it was a thud that rattled his entire frame. He nevertheless adjusted quickly, readying his weapon and scanning his surroundings.

_Shit._ It was pitch black, and the only thing he could hear was the soft _plink plink_ of the rain hitting his suit and his own unsteady breathing. He turned on his suit lights, hoping that it would not attract any zerg attention while he was alone. _At least I can see what the hell I'm doin'._

Jim wiggled his eyebrows, bringing up the display of nearby suit signatures. The dots on the readout showed that despite the frantic nature of their landing, they weren't terribly spread out, with the furthest marine from Jim only about 1000 feet away. He couldn't pick up Sarah though. _Makes sense. Ghosts weren't made to be detectable._

"Jim," came Sarah's voice from the suit, static hissing in the background. "It looks like you landed safely, I can see you from here. Your left – top of the hill." Jim looked to his left and up. He could just barely make out a silvery silhouette shaking something from up above. "Victor powered out of here, ship barely intact – he'll probably have to make a crash landing close to the city limits. I talked to Saren – he's sending out a flare." Sure enough, Jim heard a distant bang, coupled with a red light climbing into the darkened heavens. "Everyone – meet up at the flare. I'll take care of the zerg."

Jim heard acknowledgements from the surviving members of the team, and he himself hastened to comply. _How the hell is she gonna take care of the zerg?_ _Luring 'em out of the way? _Jim didn't dare ask. He kept a close eye on his surroundings, his twin beams of light shifting with every snapping twig, every gust of wind.

The flare hung in the air silently, broadcasting Saren's position to anyone who might be looking. Jim desperately hoped that, at the moment, it was only the handful of marines closing on Saren and his ship.

Jim pushed branches out of the way, flattened logs as he stomped across them, tore bushes in half as he closed the distance. In the suit, there was no real way to avoid making a racket, and Jim was left feeling rather envious of Kerrigan's ghost suit. _Then again, the very reason she gets the suit is the same reason why we were jumped…_. The flare died suddenly, but Jim was almost under it. He could hear voices close by, checked the suit locations again, found all five of the other suits clustered around the same location. A faint light shone about fifty yards from him. _Got it._

"This is Jimmy!" he yelled, causing the voices to fall silent. He walked forward through the thick brush, his boots tearing up vegetation as he went. There was a flash of light, and Jim caught a brief outline of a downed turian vessel, bringing the first time he had met Saren roaring back. _Shit, and there's zerg this time, too._

The ship had been expertly plowed into a clearing. A smoking furrow of earth trailed behind where the vessel had landed, only visible thanks to the still working lights shining from inside the ship. Three marines stood in a line, facing Jim with guns ready. _Well, glad they're ready for anything._ Behind them stood Saren, a thin rake across his chest only barely covered by bandages. His gun was trained on Jim as well. _Glad to see you're sufferin' a bit. How's it feel to kill a planet? Wasn't that one of the reasons you were obsessed with making the protoss hurt?_

"Jim," said Saren, sounding relieved. "I'm sorry. Your arrival with Kerrigan seems to have pulled the zerg away from me and directly to your ship. The pilots survived, but-"

"That's what you're sorry about, huh?" said Jim, speaking louder than he would like to be heard over the rain. "Not about the four and odd billion people you just sentenced to death?"

The marines turned to look at each other at this – Jim could just about make out some ironically cheery messages at pink hearts that marked Jenny's armor – and Saren lowered his weapon and took a step back. Jim was getting better at reading turian faces, but Saren's was obscured by the dark and rain. Thunder rumbled overhead.

"You've been told what transpired I see," said Saren. "Very well, yes. I acknowledge what I have done, but I will stand by it to my dying breath. I-"

"That might come sooner than you think!" growled Jim, propelling himself forward and levelling his gun to Saren's face. The turian's predatory eyes narrowed, and Jim could see blue creeping through his arms. _We gonna do this? _"That's it? You're just gonna stand there and say you don't regret murdering a planet?"

"We were betrayed," said Saren, his voice all steely fury. "The zerg are loose in Council space. We needed this war to be a victory. The protoss have cut us off when we were needed the most at home. Mengsk had a solution." Saren looked calmly into Jim's visor, stared straight into the vision of death Jim had painted on it. "I was sent to place the emitter to his exact specifications. He was _very _specific about placement and code sequences." Saren cocked his head, his mouth almost kissing the barrel of Jim's gun. "The zerg arrived directly on top of the asari fleet. There was a lot of space to choose from. What were the odds of that, I wonder?"

"_That's_ where the plan started to stink to you?" snarled Jim. "God forbid, you might have lost a few ships and soldiers to go with the entire _fucking_ planet! It's only when turians die that you start to feel anything!" Jim opened his visor, looked down on Saren with naked eyes. "You ask me, you and Mengsk deserve each other. The Council, the Hierarchy, you can burn in hell for all I care. I know that's what's waitin' for ya."

Saren opened his mouth, closed it. When he looked to Jim, any sign of comradeship that might had been there before was gone.

"Sergeant," called back Saren harshly, "you said ten minutes ago, ten minutes ago! The zerg are gone. What's your status?"

As if in response, the shuttle kicked into life, dust and leaves propelled from the updraft. Saren didn't turn around, just walked into the shuttle, the marines following behind. Jenny stopped Jim, letting her visor roll down as well. Smoke once again billowed forth from it.

"I say we get him to take us where we want to go, then wax him," said Jenny, her face looking skull-like in the dim, primal light of her cigar. "Fuck the Sons, and fuck these aliens. Grab _Norad II_ and head for the Protectorate, see if it's alien-free."

"I got a mind to do that," said Jim. "But I figure I owe Saren just enough not to. Besides, parents always said a man had the choice to change." Jim spat on the floor. "I got a second chance. I ain't gonna give Saren one, but he'll be free enough to earn it on his own time. You get me?"

Jenny puffed, sending smoke into the rain. "Didn't know all this time, our marshal was a pussy."

Jim gave her a half, mocking smile. "Mercy ain't the mark of a weak man, Jenny. And this is _not_ the time to test me. Get the fuck on board and shut your mouth."

Jenny shoved past him angrily, and Jim could feel faint tendrils of guilt creeping into the naked rage. _Who knew planetary annihilation could get me bent out of shape? _He followed her inside, then found he was unable to strap himself in to the turian craft. _Right. Not made for CMC suits._

"Take us to New Gettysburg, closest city up the highway," said Jim shortly. He patched back in to Sarah. "Saren's safe. Havin' him drop us off to save some lives. Darlin' what did "taking care of the zerg" mean?"

"I'm cloaked and moving northwest!" came the reply. "Jim, New Gettysburg is home to several million people. If you can stay there and ferry people to safety, you'd get more people out than hopping from city to city. I can make that happen. I'm pulling all the zerg to me that I can."

"Darlin'?" asked Jim, shifting as the shuttle lifted. "That don't sound like the safest idea. How long do you think you can keep that up?"

"I'm running for the closest Confederate lines," said Kerrigan, sounding strained with exertion. "Look, I can handle myself Jim. Evading the zerg is easier than taking them head on. Just save as many people as you can, then you can come along and save me, alright? If things get too hot, I'll let you know. Good luck."

"Yeah," said Jim, leaning back in his suit. "Good luck."_ You'll need something stronger than luck._

The shuttle went by in an eerie silence. Everyone rolled their visor up and refused to talk to each other, aside from two of the marines Jim didn't know nudging each other and muttering briefly. When the shuttle landed, it was none too soon for Jim.

Jim was the first out, the marines clambered behind him, ducking under the roof of the craft. He watched them go, and was left staring into the face of Saren, still sitting closest to the pilots, his fellow turians.

_Remember when you had a gun pointed to my head and didn't pull the trigger? _Jim almost said something, almost wanted to take back what was said. But then he saw behind the craft and saw a mushroom cloud that dwarfed any thought, reason, or forgiveness. _…maybe you should have._

"Sergeant!" called out Saren. "We're done here. Make for Tarsonis Heth." The doors slid closed and Jim turned away. They had landed outside of New Gettysburg, the city alight. Jim could hear the yelling and the screams, and overhead he could see _Norad II's _searchlights dancing in the heavens.

"Matt?" said Jim. "Got Saren safe. Sarah's tryin' to divert the zerg from New Gettysburg. Whats the situation?" Jim realized the other marines had left without him and were making significant headway into the chaos. He sprinted after them, waiting for Matt's response.

"Good, got it, sir," said Matt. "We've made one trip to Aleph already, and are well on our way to the second. No word from Mengsk, but scans indicate the zerg are spreading fast. They'll be outside New Gettysburg in less than three hours."

_Dammit._ "How many trips you think you can make, Matt?" asked Jim. "Can we get this city out in time?"

"Uh," said Matt, not inspiring confidence, "that depends if Lieutenant Kerrigan can buy us a few extra hours, sir. If I might make a suggestion, sir, it would be to fortify the city. I've got the shuttle part handled."

"Right" said Jim. "Mar Sara all over again." He turned around, stared into the face of the mushroom cloud that had turned the horizon into an omen of death. The thin line between sky and earth had turned a blood red. _No. This is so, so much worse._

Jim ran into the cities, running past parked cars on the highways that had been completely abandoned by their owners. His own marines had been lost in the dark, and Jim was not entirely sure he wanted to be around Jenny at that instant. The streets in the outer portions of the city were utterly quiet, the lights in most of the towering building turned off. Jim followed the yelling, the places where _Norad II's_ searchlights were pointing. He was faced with a military checkpoint, walls ringed with barbwire at the top, missile turrets stacked on the skyscrapers to either side of the lengthy barricade, siege tanks placed intermittently throughout. A Confederate flag rose, fluttering madly in the whistling wind.

A Confederate marine met Jim at the checkpoint entrance, visor up, clearly not happy about another marine wearing Korhal colors entering his city. He pointed a finger at the battlecruiser above.

"You with the air support?" bellowed the marine, trying to make himself heard above the chaos of the crowds behind the barricades.

"Yep!" yelled Jim back. "Who's in charge here?"

The marine looked to his left and right, then spat on the ground, barely visible through the rain. _He's young._ "The zerg are in charge!" he shouted. "We got no one 'cept volunteers and the few men they didn't send up high! Those tanks are crewed by Korhal men – the guys supposed to be inside them were stationed on Heth!"

"Then you're lookin' at the man about to take charge," said Jim, standing close in front of the marine. "What's your name, son?"

"Corporal Kingston, sir," said the man, stiffening and saluting. "Wait, fuck, I recognize you. You were on that broadcast. Raynor, right?"

"Yeah," said Jim, shouldering past him. "Looks like you fell back to a defensible area, but the zerg will chew through that fast enough when they get here. We got spider mines?"

"Uh, yes sir," stammered Kingston. "But we ain't got Vultures to set 'em."

"Matt," said Jim, patching back in to _Norad II's_ frequency, "I'm gonna need you to drop off ten, no, twelve Vultures into the city. We're going to mine the outskirts."

"Copy that," said Horner, "I'll get 'em down there in six. Almost fully loaded here."

Jim crossed the barricade without looking back. The other side, the city was resplendent with orange. Skycars crossed overhead like panicked birds – and judging by some of the smoke and flames from a few of the high rises, there had been collisions. Down below, the people were swarming, crying out, each pushing madly towards the center of the city, where shuttles were climbing in and out of the belly of _Norad II._

Jim's suit had picked up a host of new public frequencies as he crossed the threshold into these people's lives, and drawn by a morbid curiosity, he listened to them.

"-looking for a Toby Inger, age of fourteen, wearing a purple _Tarsonis Torpedoes _sports t-shirt, last seen close to Shepherd's Square. Please – we can't leave without hi-"

"-offering forty-thousand credits to any woman or child who gives me their seat on the next shuttle, in cash, on hand. For a short delay, you'll be set once you get-"

"-THIS IS A PUBLIC SAFETY ANNOUNCEMENT. ALL ORBITAL DEFENSES HAVE BEEN BREACHED. WE HAVE REPORTS OF MASS CIVILIAN CASUALTIES IN ALL SECTORS. CODE BLACK, REPEAT, CODE BLACK. ALL CITIZENS ARE ADVISED TO KEEP MOV-"

Jim shut it off, feeling a black horror settling on his stomach. _This is what the end times must look like. Must sound like._

"Rangers!" cried Jim. "Listen up! Gonna need about eleven other people to step out of their combat suits and mine the outskirts of the city with me! Should make the zerg think twice about rushing in, thick as grass. I won't lie, it's gonna take some time and we might end up seein' those bastards face to face. Volunteers?"

When the shuttles came down, four Vultures apiece, Jim had his people. The vultures were pulled out of the shuttles, and they all clambered out of their suits and left them inside. Jim was soon after soaked from the rain, but he didn't feel the cold. Neither, apparently, did the others. There was not a complaint from a single man, a single woman.

Kingston had waited anxiously, having pulled a large stock of inactive spider mines to the side of the street. He had also procured a map of the city, marking them off in twelve sections.

"One for each," he said nervously. "You might want to start with the farthest out, first. Might not get a chance later."

"Right," said Jim. "I'll take nine. Think you can set me up an overlay of the city back at the command center? Gonna need to set up defensive lines in the inner city while we still have a chance."

Kingston saluted again. "Yes, sir! I'll take care of it."

"I ain't a sir," said Jim. "Get to it, all of you."

Jim set off on his bike, trying to lose himself in the initial monotony of the task. It didn't work. While there was open road, there were still plenty of cars (as well as the occasional person) to dodge. So instead he was left with the rain, a mushroom cloud, and a bike full of mines.

Jim dropped one off at the perimeter, a mine every six hundred feet or so. He had brought as many as he could, but even as it stood he covered a pitiful distance, not even an eighth of the number of streets he needed to protect. _Still got plenty of time._ The horizon flashed, and when Jim turned his vulture around, it was to see a mushroom cloud now on the horizon on the other side of the city. _The Confederacy is turnin' its own nukes on itself. _He wondered if it was helping.

Kingston anxiously awaited his return. Jim was just in time to see another of his riders depart with a loaded bike, and he felt a surge of relief that at least he had helping hands to see him through the nightmare. _Plenty of people in this together._

Kingston led him to the command center, a building that had been strewn with paper and all manner of trash in the hasty evacuation of its personnel. The glowing blue layout of New Gettysburg in the central command hub looked almost lonely, with no one else around.

Jim took one long look at the city. "The barricades are solid. Should gut a few of the smaller ones on their way over. Huh. Siege tanks, pull them back a couple hundred feet behind the barricade, no need to get any closer to the action then you need to." He looked to Kingston. "Any air support?"

Kingston shuffled his feet, a curious sight given he was in power armor. "Just you, sir."

_Of course._

"Right," said Jim. "This ain't gonna be fun. There any SCVs about?" Kingston nodded. "Set up missile turrets on the roofs, as many as you can. Those bastards come in force, air and ground. Need as much firepower as we can muster." Kingston saluted again. Jim took another long look at the layout.

"Gonna need marine lines at each entrance," said Jim, "it shouldn't take more than a handful to keep the crowd orderly. Eight men every twenty feet, every side. You know which ones are the asari?"

"The blue ones," said Kingston immediately.

"Right," said Jim. "They've got something close to kinetics. Get 'em on the edges. We didn't bring many, but there weren't many to begin with anyway. And cram as many marines as you can in the windows of nearby buildings. Takin' a building is hell, believe me. Even the zerg will feel the pain. If you've got any machine guns, get 'em mounted and manned. You think you can handle all this? If people don't listen, just tell me when I make my next pass."

Kingston opened his mouth, closed it, nodded.

"Then that's all I got for ya. I'm headed back out." Jim thought about saluting, shrugged instead, and walked back into the rain. Lightning was now playing overhead in in jagged flashes, making Jim a little thankful he was no longer walking around in an eight foot metal suit.

The next trip felt better, as Jim thought he covered much more ground, and moreover, there was less ground left. It was with a lurch he remembered something.

"Kerrigan," he said, patching in, "this is Jimmy. How's it look out there?"

"The zerg who followed me out to the suburbs are all dead," came the response. "Still have plenty of ammo, and the suit is still juiced. The zerg are sending scouts out from New Buzzard. That was the last city they took. The Confederacy are emptying their arsenal…and I think Mengsk is up there, laughing."

Jim glanced at the mushroom cloud. "Yeah. There's gonna be a reckoning for that." _Duke and Saren were just pawns. Doubtful they're gonna get a chance to do something like this again. Mengsk on the other hand… Christ, Harper, you should have sought me out. We could have left together._ "Be careful, darlin'. Keep me informed, I'll get you out when you call for it."

Jim considered the rest of the trips notable only if another mushroom cloud sprung up while he was on it. Two hours in, he counted six to the south, four to the east, eight to the north, and couldn't count the numbers to the west, having lost track at around fourteen.

The streets at the center weren't clearing out, and Matt said he had completed no less than forty-seven trips. _There's just too many people._ When Jim queried whether the turians might be able to lend a hand again, it was only to learn that there was practically nothing left of their fleet. _Kingston was right. The zerg are the ones in charge here._

"Confederates are pulling out," said Matt emotionlessly. "I mean, what's left of them on Yorkland and Cadia, anyway. The surviving officers are surrendering to Mengsk, begging him for help."

"Has he sent us any word?" asked Jim, pulling up his vulture and hoping that the bastard had noticed one of his better ships going rogue.

"None," said Matt. "Sir… the zerg are almost here. How much time do you think your defenses can buy?"

Jim shrugged helplessly. "Not a clue, Matt."

Jim made three more trips after the exchange. The rain still poured down, and smoke was beginning to fill the air. _Smoke's probably all that's left of New Buzzard._ It left the air hazy, and Jim's heart began to hammer again. _I think this is it._

Jim called his suit back down, got off his vulture, and re-entered it. He took a position on a barricade on the northeast aside, standing shoulder to shoulder with men in both Confederate and Korhal colors. _Don't matter a thing against the zerg._

Jim became aware of the first zerg probe as distant bangs were heard from the furthest streets, echoing through the deserted roads. Jim just nodded to himself, hoping they would do enough damage.

The second probe came through the air – the winged zerg made a pass in the southern side. The missile turrets did their job, downing three of the half-dozen, but the creatures pulled away as quickly as they came. More bangs followed that, and the mushroom clouds on every side had become speckled with wheeling black shapes. Jim's grip on his gun tightened.

"Matt, how we doin'?" asked Jim.

"Sir, it would take several weeks to do all of this with one ship," said Matt. "There's going to have to be a breaking point. Why isn't Mengsk helping us?"

"Because he wanted this planet to die, Matt," said Jim, not even feeling angry at this point anymore, just tired. "He's the one who called the zerg here. I'll explain how later. Sarah told me."

Matt gave no response at first, Jim only heard a sharp intake of breath.

"He called them here?" asked Matt. "How… how could anyone do this? Sir, it's goddamn doomsday down there!"

The darkness was thinning. Jim had only just noticed. _It's dawn. Ain't that supposed to herald hope?_ All the dawn did was make Jim able to see the oncoming zerg better.

The third probe was several smaller zerg loping through the streets, skirting the range of their guns. This did not save them, however, as spider mines popped out of the soil and promptly turned them into a thin red paste covering scorched concrete.

"Kerrigan," said Jim. "I think it's time."

"Running from the city," said Kerrigan. "Zerg in pursuit. Jim – I think I've got an hour, at most. The city – probably not much longer."

"I'll be comin' for ya, darlin'," said Jim. "Matt, make as many runs as you can, then… then we're pullin' out. You get as many women and children as you could?"

"Not all, sir," said Matt, after a pause. "Take as many of those bugs with you as you can."

Jim looked up and watched _Norad II _make another departure. Its searchlights had been turned off, and it was now possible to make out the hasty Korhal paint job Mengsk had given it. _Ship has changed hands quite a few times now._

Jim returned his attention to the ground. A line of zerg returned his gaze.

Thick, brown, panting, hissing, crawling, clawing, slithering, slaughtering, there was the zerg. Big ones in the back, small ones in the front, snake-mantises all 'round. Looking down the line, Jim saw asari, turians, and terrans with weapons and faces drawn. _Might be the last time I fight alongside aliens. _

The zerg waited. The air above them filled with both the winged zerg, and the large ones that put Jim in mind of balloons. When Jim looked behind him, it was to find that every side of the barricade had zerg in it. Jim spat on the ground, let his visor fall down. Flashes of the zerg rushes he had endured time and time again on Mar Sara flashed through his mind, and Jim's hands began to shake. He let the stimpack needle slide in, and the fear dissipated.

_Come and get it, you ugly sons of bitches._

As if they had heard him, the zerg surged forward with the same kind of movement that Jim associated with avalanches, asteroids, oncoming floodwaters – powerful, unstoppable, and without any kind of sympathy or possibility of resistance. _Time to do the impossible, for a little while._

The siege tanks fired first. Chunks of concrete flew from the ground and nearby buildings, pulping zerg and starting fires. The missile turrets started sending screaming death into the air, and Jim heard the fliers fall in shrieking clumps. His trigger finger twitched in anticipation.

The suit gave him the go-ahead, and Jim pulled the trigger again and again. It was like pissing into an ocean – people close by would run the hell away, but the ocean itself would carry on without noticing. He was silent inside his suit, emptying burst after burst into the rage that boiled below him.

Mines were set off, causing holes to appear in the tide of tooth and claw – but these gaps were filled as quickly as they had appeared. The siege tanks were deafening Jim with their constant fire, but it was no good. Jim saw one, two, three singularities go up from the few asari they had, suspending zerg in place for Jim to eviscerate with his slug. It accomplished nothing. Jim shrunk backwards as a zerg leapt at his face, only to be caught in the barbed wire. Jim let his bayonet slide out and jabbed the creature sharply, spearing its face and letting it slide off, falling into its still living fellows.

More followed. With the zerg, more always seemed to follow. The fliers backed away, apparently deterred by the missiles, but the ground fighters were not so easily swayed. The bigger ones were at a height with the marines atop the walls, and they rammed the steel with no regard for the gauss rounds shredding their flesh. One fell. Then two. The zerg rushed on heedless, but the line was holding. A man fell to Jim's right, but another took his place. Weapons fire could be seen from all nearby buildings behind the barricade, when Jim looked back. _No… this is working._

The tide of zerg did not abruptly stop, but there was a sense of thinning out. After five minutes of a slowed procession, the last of the zerg, climbing atop the bodies of their fellows, were shot.

"Yes…" breathed Jim. "Hah. Knew this wasn't Mar Sara."

He turned to the bloodied marine next to him, who had pointed to several distant shapes. The zerg had fallen back, but they were waiting, facing the line expectantly. Jim looked up. He wasn't sure he had seen those wide looking fliers before.

What Jim was familiar with, however, was the choking orange cloud that was coughed up as if out of nowhere. Jim's suit systems went haywire, and where he could see everything more or less clearly before, now there were only twisting silhouettes. He felt the ground shake… and then saw people falling.

Something was flying close by, striking the barricade with precision and a terrible power. Jim jumped off just in time, falling through the orange. Behind him, there was a low rumble. The barricade melted away, and Jim remembered the zerg were capable of more than just blindly rushing on.

Jim fell back, sprinting clear of the cloud, calling for everyone to follow him. People staggered clear, shouting, panicking over what they knew would soon come.

Jim stared up at the heavens. _Norad II _descended like an angel poised to grant salvation, but Jim knew there was not enough of that salvation for all. _And this time I plan to see it to the end._

"Matt, pick up everyone you can, and don't look back," said Jim. "Grab Kerrigan, and jump the hell out of here. I'm going to hold out as long as I can."

"That right?" came a familiar voice through the comm. _Harper?_ "Jim, you're one of the few people I know I can actually claim is both trustworthy and intelligent. I'm not inclined to let you sacrifice yourself. Cerberus Squadron inbound."

"How the hell did you-" Jim didn't have time to finish. A second battlecruiser materialized as if out of nowhere, painted in an unfamiliar gold and black scheme. Accompanied with it were a score of wraiths, soaring straight for the zerg. _A cruiser with stealth capabilities?_ "Commander?!"

"No such rank anymore," came Harper's cool reply. "Get the hell off the ground, Raynor. We need to leave this hellhole. Focus laser batteries on air targets. Strafe the streets and engage the guardians. Focus nuclear bombardment on the outskirts. Let's show the zerg the Confederacy is capable of doing more than panicking and dying."

Fire erupted all around Jim, and he actually almost dropped his weapon in shock as the ground shook. Jim looked to the center of the city and saw the crowds standing there, uncertain if this was salvation. _I ain't goin', Harper. Not unless these people are safe._

"Sarah," said Jim. "Harper's here. He brought friends. Any idea where the hell he came from?"

"Busy, Jim!" said Kerrigan, fear evident in her tone. "Listen, I know what you're thinking, and you _can't save everyone._ But you can sure as hell grab me, we've done all we can here!"

Jim looked up to the two cruisers. _I know no one's gonna call me a coward afterward, cause no one will be left to say it. Shit. I've done all I could. No one's asking me to throw my life away… and I'll be frank, deep down, I ain't inclined to._

_Is this the part where I'm a bad person?_

_I'm sorry._

"We saved a couple million people," said Jim to himself. "Hope that was enough. Forgive me. Harper… can you make sure the zerg won't… take these people?" _You know what I'm asking._

"There won't be anything left when we're through," said Harper. Jim closed his eyes, tried to drown out the screams, and ran for his life to the nearest dropship.

The hatch didn't close fast enough for him. He looked down, visor still obscuring his still face, at the faces. There were still women and children. Jim knew history might forget them. He wouldn't. _The best I can do is make sure the people who did this will pay. Hell… okay, not the best I can do. _When he pounded the side of the shuttle, leaving a mighty dent, no one noticed. _We survived, at least._

Jim exited his suit as soon as he reached the hangar, not wanting to spend a minute longer than he had to in there. He stormed for the bridge, noticing he had been taken to _Norad II_, not whatever the hell Harper had come riding in. When he faced Matt, the man's hair was drenched with sweat, and his face had gone beet red.

"Mengsk did this, not us!" was the first thing he said, but Jim just shook his head. "Right now, this is about getting Kerrigan out of here, and then leaving this place behind. She's got zerg on her tail. Get her signature."

Horner saluted, which made Jim's temper flare, though he wasn't certain why. Matt brought up her signature, two and a half klicks to the northwest of the city.

"She's moving fast," muttered Matt. "But… sir?"

"No questions, Matt," said Jim. "Get to her. Now."

"Boys?" came Kerrigan's voice from Matt's console, as if on cue. "I need evac. What's going on up there."

"Sir, I can get in," said Matt, "but then I need to prep to head straight into orbit. Too many zerg. I'll have to go at a breakneck pace just to make it through. Picking her up – we'd need to have enough of a lead on the zerg to stop briefly to get her inside. I don't see how-"

"Get me a Vulture," said Jim. "And get me down there."

Matt gawped at Jim. "Sir, you cannot be-"

"She's tiny, there's room for two," said Jim, turning on his heel and making his way back to the hangar. "Get us close, send out a dropship to drop me off, and I'll pick her up and get us enough of a lead that it'll be safe. Matt, I'm _doin'_ this."

Matt snapped a salute. "Yes, sir! We will commence retrieval of vital asset!" _If that's how you want to think about it. _

"Harper!" said Matt as Jim left. "Reconvene at these coordinates, we need to pick up Lieutenant Kerrigan. Yes, sir, she has abandoned Mengsk…"

Jim didn't stop to listen, instead jogging (again) back to the hangar, thinking carefully about how hard he could push a vulture engine. _Outrunnin' the fliers, easy enough. The ground ones run pretty fast though, and I'll need to swerve to dodge anything that claws its way out of the ground…_

Jim picked a Vulture sitting quietly in the corner. It had no mines, but Jim had no plans of stopping to lay them. He checked the engine, found it recently serviced, and readied himself.

"Raynor," said Matt over the intercom, "Harper is prepping to drop nukes. New Gettysburg is done. You have about four minutes to do this. We will not be able to stop – the, scourges, that's what he called them, the suicide bombers? Sir, if they hit this ship, we're done. You sure about this?"

"Yeah, Matt," said Jim. _Promised I would get her out. And God knows what the zerg would do to her._ He buried his head in his hands, trying not to remember the people he had left behind in favor of saving himself, Kerrigan, and continuing the fight. _Everyone will know about Tarsonis when I'm done. Mengsk, one day you're gonna see me walkin' to you with a gun in my hand and a smile on my face, and you won't be in a position to do a thing about it._

A pilot yelled at Jim to move the vulture over, and Jim propelled it up the hatch.

"This is going to be a fast drop!" screamed the pilot at him from her seat. "You best hit the ground running, alright?"

"Ain't no other way to do it," said Jim, giving her a thumbs up. The dropship came alive, engine roaring. The rear hatch shut, and then the dropship shot forward with a speed and urgency Jim was unused to.

"Open in five!" yelled the pilot. Jim kicked his thrusters into gear, made them ready for landing.

"DROP!"

The rear hatch fell with a clang that was swiftly drowned by the wind. Jim shot forward like a berserk bullet but fell through the air far less gracefully.

His stomach loosened, and Jim had to resist the urge to vomit as he took in the sight of hundreds of miles of now scorched terrain, broken road, and jutting rebar through burnt concrete.

The thrusters kicked in, slowing his fall and bringing him gently to ground level, floating above it. Jim didn't register, shooting forward.

Jim heard gunshots and could see zerg rushing all in one direction. He followed them, passing the slower ones, feeling for his holster and getting ready for the moment he would have to stop.

The _Norad II _bore directly overhead, covering ground in a way he wished he could – and would indeed have to, in a minute. He sped up, heard the engine whine in an unhealthy way. _Hope you're readin' my mind darlin'. You'll need to know when I'm close. Comin' in hot._

Jim had no idea if the zerg were paying him any mind. He stuck to the road, gunning it with all speed. The _Norad II _grew no further away.

"Two minutes, sir!" said Matt. Jim just gritted his teeth. He could see a silvery shadow ahead. The distance was closing.

Jim only stopped for two seconds, but Kerrigan knew exactly where to be. She leapt behind Raynor, facing back, gun still at the ready. Jim accelerated again, not missing a beat.

"You alright, darlin'?" asked Jim, keeping his eyes fixed on the battlecruiser.

"We did all we could," yelled Sarah back. "I'll pick off all the targets I can. Jim, don't let up!"

Jim could smell something chemical, and knew the vulture was burning out. _Might have less than two minutes._ _Norad II_ was trading weapons fire with some of the fliers in the distance, making Jim suspect Matt might have actually slowed down.

"Jim," came Harper's voice, "I'm deploying nukes in one. They won't feel a thing, and we'll deny the zerg a few more bodies to use. For what it's worth… I don't like doing this either."

_Can only think of one man who does._ Jim's teeth were pressing together so hard they were beginning to ache. _Gun in hand, Mengsk. Smile on face. Bullet in chamber._

They were directly below _Norad II_. Kerrigan was firing her weapon, the stock jabbing into Jim's shoulder with each report. The cruiser slowed, and Kerrigan's weapon went click. Jim looked behind and saw only zerg and his smoking engine. Jim sighed, heart slowing. _So, this is it? _There were only seconds until the bombs dropped or the zerg took them. _Norad II _was as ready as it was ever going to be. _So Matt? We live? Or die? _

Kerrigan turned to look at Jim, her green eyes looking so much more alive than everything else around them.

"We live, Jim." And as she kissed him on the forehead, they were lifted by the battlecruiser's emergency extraction field. Jim watched the zerg shrink beneath them, heart thundering from relief and gratitude, and fell back from his bike on to the floor of _Norad II_ when they reached safety.

Jim would later reflect with embarrassment on how his triumphant return to the bridge was in the arms of a marine, having been rendered senseless. He looked out the viewscreen, saw stars. He only came to his senses when Matt wringed his hands.

"Sir, good to see you and Kerrigan alive. Not sure you can hear me, but Mengsk wants to talk to you and Harper. Sir?"

Jim smiled up at Matt's shiny face. "Let me at him."

The display showed Mengk's face up close. He smiled warmly at Raynor, though he did not spare one for Harper as the former Magistrate's own scowling face appeared in the lower left corner of the screen.

"Captain Raynor," said Mengsk, "I am pleased to see you alive, even through your foolishness with Duke and New Gettysburg. I even hear you retrieved-"

"Mengsk," said Jim. "Blow me."

For the first time since Jim had met the man, Mengsk looked confused. And in a rare display, Harper broke down in complete laughter. From the back, Jim could even hear Kerrigan snickering.

"I see," he said eventually. "I always figured you for a man of plain words, _Captain_, even came to respect you for it… but do not think to cross me. Not here. Not now. I have sown the seeds of an empire-"

"And I'm here to burn the fields," said Harper. "We all know what you've done, Arcturus. The number of people who want you dead just went up sharply." He folded his arms. "Your words are worthless. Raynor – sending coordinates. Meet me there."

"Victus!" hissed Mengsk, turning furiously to some hidden screen. "They are directly in your path! Set your ships to intercept and cripple their vessels! We cannot afford to have them loose!"

"Receiving coordinates!" said Matt from behind. "Give me… one minute. I can do this!"

Jim heard a sigh from Mengsk's screen. He looked behind him at the layout of the planet, saw the small line of turian vessels close to their own position.

"With what ships?" said Victus, causing Mengsk's jaw to drop.

"Punching it!" yelled Matt in triumph, and Jim waved goodbye to the man he once followed, shooting into the stars where he could not follow, on the ship he had stolen.


	26. The Galaxy Wakes

**Daggoth**

The defenders had worn themselves thin trying to fend off his swarm. Their cities had fallen one by one, refugees fleeing the flames and death like so much helpless prey, which of course they were. The Overmind had sent Daggoth beneath the galaxy to tear at its exposed underbelly, and he was savoring every second of it, drinking in the fear of those he would soon either destroy or perfect.

Daggoth, so distant on Therum, looked through the eyes of one of his infested vorcha (that he had since christened "vorchlings") on the far off plains of Dekuuna. The peoples here were large due to the increased gravity, and his own zerg had trouble adapting until the newly incorporated vorcha gene strains kicked in. The gravity had turned from a hindrance into an asset, as Daggoth bore witness to some of the bulkiest and fastest zerglings he had ever had the pleasure of commanding.

As for Dekuuna itself, it had proven an unexpected delight in other ways as well. The inhabitants, beings known as "elcor" were widely dismissed by the galaxy at large for being large, strange beings with little to contribute in such matters as economy and military. Naturally, this made them excellent targets, for the chance of swift, harsh reprisal was unlikely, and what little resistance they had put up had been easily outmaneuvered and overwhelmed. Furthermore, the planet was one of the richest Daggoth had ever seen in terms of natural resources, loaded with useful minerals, large bodies of water, and large amounts of biomass in the forms of wildlife and plant life. _And then there are the people who live here._

Atop a hill overlooking the city of Induun, one of the few left standing on the planet, Daggoth had formed a line of zerg stretching as far as the defenders eyes could see. His host hammered the earth with claw and talon, screeching and roaring at Daggoth's instruction. From below, Daggoth could sense the waves of fear mixed with desperate defiance, in the far distance he could see the lines of elcor warriors, their backs bristling with heavy weapons that Daggoth knew from experience would stagger even an ultralisk.

Then, from the zerg ranks, stepped forward a four legged specimen. Covered in a thick orange carapace, possessed of glowing yellow eyes above several modified slavering slats that had since been torn open by protruding mandibles and lined with gleaming fangs. On their backs bristled six spiney appendages, their bases thick with muscle, a score of detachable venomous quills attached to each of them. These creatures stepped forward with a ponderous kind of malice, standing in front of the zerg lines and looking down on the defenders with both rage and ravenous hunger.

"GURGLING EXCLAMATION:" said the dekuunalisks, their translators still retained to Daggoth's amusement and the horror of their uninfested fellows, "LIVE FOR THE SWARM!"

They charged then, at Daggoth's command, and Daggoth knew there would be no further contest from that planet. He turned his attention to other matters, letting the zerg run free.

From Heshtok, Daggoth had taken all of the vorcha DNA he needed. He could now create vorchlings at will from his hive clusters, and had infused his new brood warriors with their specialized cells. The end result was a zerg brood that would only become deadlier against any specific force that fought against it. While Daggoth would never be able to fully cover any given weakness of his zerg warriors (for that was the purpose of assimilating the protoss) it would make any extended campaign on any planet a losing proposition for the opposition.

_Aside from the geth it would seem._ The geth were slowly winning the war of attrition on Heshtok. The vorcha, while violent and stupid in many ways, had finally seen that the geth were their best chance at pushing Daggoth's warriors off the planet, and had stopped firing on the synthetics. The result was vorcha warriors throwing themselves into battle against Daggoth, holding back the tide of zerglings with flamethrower and claw while the geth supported them with their pulse weaponry, close range orbital strikes, and artillery bombardment. The combined arms force was dishearteningly effective, and Daggoth abandoned trying to hold the planet once four geth fleets arrived at once, their ships gleaming and deadly. The geth took Heshtok, but Heshtok had only become a distraction, and Daggoth had taken other worlds.

The few non-vorcha Daggoth had infested had regarded Noveria as a world of cutting-edge technologies, and one asari had even thought of it as "one of the best hopes of contending with the Koprulu Sector." So naturally, it had to go. The world was cold and surprisingly heavily defended for what was supposed to be only a bastion of science and incomprehensible corporate interests. The arrival of Daggoth's leviathan had caused all manner of alarms to scream, and word apparently got out that the planet was under attack before the comm buoys were destroyed. _Well, time for a change in strategy._ It was too late for the comm buoys closest to the Hegemony planet of Yex'por and the volus planet of Daleon, but Daggoth resolved to stop destroying comm buoys. _It should be possible to tap into the communciations of these races. They think of us as mindless beasts, devoid of anything save a low cunning. Let them think of us as they please._

The volus planet was… interesting to deal with. The thick ammonia could not harm his zerg, but the same could not be said for the inhabitants, who Daggoth quite quickly learned had ties to the Turian Hierarchy. For the first time since Chau Sara, Daggoth was faced with the turians, who had apparently been paying quite close attention to any and all news flying from the Koprulu Sector regarding the zerg. Their tactics were quite irritating.

They planted mines everywhere. They rallied the diminutive, rotund volus of the world to bomb any and all hive clusters Daggoth established with small, fast-moving craft, and refused to engage the zerg wherever possible, preferring instead to hit his creatures with fast moving airstrikes and distant artillery barrages. Both sides were actively hindered by the overwhelming pressure as well; the turians bore suits that counteracted the effects, while the zerg carapace protected their organs. Only when both sides began ripping away the other's protections that the planet's hostility to non-volus life became all too apparent; battlefields all too quickly became strewn with the horrible messes of zerg and turians succumbing to the pressure.

It was here, as well, that Daggoth learned of whom he soon termed his greatest foe outside the protoss, a being he would privately christen as the Council's Emissary of Death.

Scouring the mind of a recently downed and infested volus pilot, he came across a series of images from Council news sources that caused no small amount of consternation. The volus had even committed some of the news to memory, having apparently watched it over and over again with his fellow pilots.

A bug-eyed, horned creature talked into the camera at lightning speed, and Daggoth drank in the memory.

"…from samples taken from trusted source, have discovered zerg weakness. Zerg capable of rapid, unspeakable evolution to conquer threat. However, test results clear. Weak to concentrated radiation, consequence of heavily mutable gene strands. Advising all units to swap to polonium rounds immediately. Zerg incursion inevitable, by calculation. Incendiary rounds also acceptable…"

The volus's mind faded shortly after that, leaving Daggoth to shift back on Therum, the name of the doctor, the salarian, echoing through his mind.

_Solus…_

The fight went on, with Daggoth resolving to simply hit the major cities without first establishing a proper hive cluster. While this resulted in a waste of biomass, he could not continue fighting the Hierarchy resistance on what were clearly terms they found acceptable. Sure enough, they were forced to fight in the streets in order to protect their citizenry, and the resistance was unable to last against his brood in urban combat. _It may be a different affair against their fleets, however. And I have no way of knowing where the geth will strike next._

Yex'por fell easily, being a jungle world populated almost entirely by helpless slaves. The slavedrivers themselves, the "batarians," proved themselves physically robust, but Daggoth took one scan of their memories and ruled out launching an assault at the Hegemony proper. _The Council would ignore it; they are not fond of these beings and could cite their usage of slavery as reason to remove them from their protection. They would simply take the time to shore up their own defenses and make the attack into their space all the more difficult – which means more warriors lost, and more of a chance for the protoss or Reapers to arrive and ruin my efforts._

_Reapers…_ Daggoth knew not where Sovereign had gone, but he was taking every memory, every hint of data that he could on the fallen Prothean Empire. They alone were the beings that had confronted the blasted machines that were still even vaguely accessible, and Daggoth wanted to seek out any and all records of Reaper weaknesses before he tangled with the ship again. Every now and again he would catch hints of the psionic signature, but it was drowned out by the noise Daggoth himself was making as he slowly drove for the heart of the Council.

It was at Noveria, five days in, that the geth showed themselves once more. Daggoth's zerg lay burrowed in snowbanks all through the planet, ambushing vehicles and foot patrols as they passed, forming hive clusters in the most distant regions and pulling back scientists to infest and interrogate. Every time he pulled back a salarian, it was to find further mentions of the Emissary of Death – either regarding his works, personal encounters, or hushed accounts of his time with a shadowy organization known as STG – and Daggoth slowly felt a mounting need to find this Emissary and deal with him personally. The polonium rounds were the only reason the research stations of Noveria still held. Zerglings and vorchlings could survive barely three hits from the cursed ammunition, and the hydralisks were barely faring any better. Daggoth was left relying on the element of surprise and superior airpower, something that was limited during the frequent blizzards. The geth made these issues even more prominent.

Their fliers descended from the heavens in vast numbers, rousing the leviathan from where Daggoth had stationed it. The leviathan tore across the outer atmosphere of the planet, bearing directly for the geth fleet, accompanied by as many mutalisks and scourge Daggoth dared send through the raging storms. The geth responded with fighters and withering fire from no less than four dreadnoughts. The leviathan's carapace was quickly covered with craters at this onslaught, while the mutalisks were left tangling with mobile and shielded targets. The scourge, meanwhile, were eaten alive by the geth's damnable point defense systems, their corpses left smoking far from the geth vessels where they could do no damage. Daggoth quickly saw where this was going, and abandoned Noveria…

…only to strike at Dekuuna, Irune, and Zada Ban. The volus were less than enticing targets, but Daggoth needed to draw the Hierarchy away from their own worlds and begin thinning out their impressive numbers. As for Dekuuna, that had simply been a fortunate find, and Daggoth chose it merely for being the homeworld of a recognized species. _That should demoralize the Council's peons._ _It was simple serendipity that the world itself was so lush and populated with such physically impressive creatures._ The dekuunalisks, though slightly ridiculous in Daggoth's eyes, were undeniably effective. He looked forward to bringing them to bear against the turians.

Irune was, in the long term, a lost cause, and Daggoth knew it. Zada Ban, due to its proximity, would most likely be retaken as well, but the goal was not to hold these planets, but rather bleed the Hierarchy steadily of its defenders. Daggoth's knowledge of the turians was extensive enough to know they would vigorously defend any and all incursions of space they had claimed as their own, and by causing them immense casualties for planets he could care less about, he could slowly but surely expose their home cluster to invasion.

_Not that I am looking forward to engaging them on their soil proper. They are damnably difficult to panic._

As he began to withdraw, Daggoth was notified of a commotion by an overlord in the system. From a comm buoy circling the Aethon Cluster's mass relay, Daggoth caught another snippet of news, only paying attention when he heard the Emissary.

"…triangulating zerg strikes indicates probable point of entry somewhere in Traverse, corroborated by unconfirmed reports from officials in Asari Republics and insistence of geth; believe Therum primary hive cluster. Defensive campaign unlikely to hold. Attacks increase in intensity. Need to establish initiative. Pushing governments to begin counterattack. Recommend utilization of geth…"

_Salarian, my hydralisks will feast on your entrails._

Daggoth left orders for his overlords to continue harassment and expand the hive clusters while returning his attention to the strategy of his campaign.

_Asari: centerpieces of the Council's alliance. Able to capture the attention and envy of any and all races that survey them. Infestation suggests minor psionic potential; T'soni is an outlier. All biotics, something to do with their homeworld. Need further captures. Attacking them guarantees swift retribution._

_Turians: already engaging in volus colonies. Haven't sent out bulk of fleet just yet. Large in number, intensely militaristic, almost protoss-like. Must avoid direct engagement, keep them on the defensive. _

_Salarians: worthless, aside from the Emissary of Death, who I will rend limb from limb for his vile polonium rounds. Reliant on superior information and mastery of technology for supremacy. Fragile, large in number, not militarist, fond of the element of surprise. They shall fall last. Aside from the Emissary. Once T'soni is found, he will be next._

_Geth: communications indicate the Council is accepting their help, although they are quite bewildered. Not talkative. Military strength unclear. Uninfestable. Impossible to intimidate. Large in number. Difficult to anticipate. Will have to abandon worlds they strike in force, and hit three areas they aren't present. _

_Volus: amusing. Tendency to explode when ruptured by vorchling claws. Investigate for weaponization purposes. Attack their worlds to draw out the turians._

_Elcor: magnificent. Will take all of Dekuuna and give their race the glory they never sought. They will not be laughed at again once they are under the Swarm. _

_Batarians: they will most likely not help the Council, and the Council will not help them. Can be safely ignored. Attacking them would likely encourage retribution from the Terminus Systems anyway, in addition to the other problems._

_Hanar: the Swarm has never conquered an ocean world. Ill-equipped to do so. Saved by their biology. How irritating._

_Quarians: may have answers regarding the geth. No idea where they are. Possess an absurd amount of firepower. Taking any alive seems unlikely. Best leave be. Targets separated from their fleet are to be high priority._

_Terrans: irrelevant. _

_Krogan: Physically robust, but too spread out... and the STG is already reinforcing Tuchanka. Not worth it. They know what is coming._

Daggoth surveyed a galaxy map through the eyes of a vorchling aboard a fallen volus ship inside the guts of a leviathan, pondering his next move.

_It is important to keep the galaxy off-balance, and to spread as far as possible. I will bring the Citadel itself before You, Father._

**"****Daggoth…"**

It was a whisper, uncharacteristically weak, but still immediately recognizable. Daggoth, enthroned on Therum, gorging on the spoils of his war, froze in the midst of his strategizing. He waited, and a tendril of consciousness caressed his mind once more.

**"****Daggoth… my son…"**

"Father," said Daggoth, pouring an earnest hope that his work would be regarded favorably into his words, "the galaxy trembles at the might of the Swarm. I have spread far, and seen deep, and long for the moment my mind will hum with Your energies again."

**"****Daggoth..." **came the voice of his Father, mighty and thunderous, yet now… sad. And in pain. Terrible, terrible pain. **"Zasz is dead."**

It was as if a yawning chasm had suddenly opened within Daggoth, rotten earth falling away to reveal crippled foundations. Daggoth searched himself, and found a part, a familiar integral part, missing. Where once there was power and eternity, now there was a gaping wound. His mind recoiled, feeling the kind of loss that only lesser beings, those not of the Swarm, were supposed to experience.

On Therum, the zerg froze. On Irune, Dekuuna, Zada Ban, Yex'por, Noveria, zerg stopped in place and gazed at the heavens. As one, they roared, channeling the loss and rage as Daggoth, and by extension the zerg itself, experienced mortality for the first time.

"Dead?" murmured Daggoth. "How is such a thing possible? Your covenant is unending, You promised it so. What kind of unholy power could break such a promise?"

**"****The protoss bear filthy weapons against us,"** said the Overmind, Its voice now filling with rage. **"They bear the same energies I wield, but utilized for giving death rather than life. Daggoth…they walk still on Char. I tear through the Koprulu Sector, yet they refuse to show themselves anywhere save at My seat. Would that you, finest of My sons, were still close." **

Daggoth felt a swell of pride at this, though it did little to dim the loss of Zasz, a brother he thought would stand alongside him until the universe itself collapsed around them.

"Thank you, Father," said Daggoth. "I too, wish I was at Your side. But Your voice has reached us at long last! My zerg have expanded far. Soon, it may even be possible for Your will to be made manifest amongst us!"

**"****You have done well, My son," **said the Overmind, his tone warm, though a little drained. **"Though I fear you may have to return soon with your spoils of war. When the protoss warrior struck down Zasz, his mind linked with Mine. I looked unto his deepest memories, and found what we have been looking for. Aiur. Pristine. Untouched. The heart of the protoss." **

"Then we must strike!" said Daggoth, letting his grief be supplanted by righteous fury. "At long last, our journey is at an end! Give the word, Father, and I will gather as much of my brood-"

**"****No, My son," **said the Overmind, causing Daggoth's rage to still. **"We are spread too thin. My broods were called, against My will, by some strange terran device to Tarsonis. Our numbers in the Koprulu Sector are thinning. Zasz's brood is lost. The terrans bring nuclear weapons to bear, and the protoss linger on Char, threatening the lives of My children." **The Overmind's voice began to shake, grief making It lose coherency. **"It is Our grand purpose to consume the protoss, but I consider the discovery of their homeworld a poor trade for one of My sons. What use is perfection if I am left alone to experience it?" **

Daggoth remained silent, cursing the protoss for wounding his Father so. Slowly, the Overmind's emotions calmed, leaving only the kind of cold rage that could cause entire suns to wink out of existence.

**"****We will bring ruin to the protoss,"** said the Overmind. **"You will be the catalyst of My designs. Conquer all. Consume all. Bring the Swarm to the strongest it can be. Then, when our might reaches its apex, abandon this place – bear straight for Aiur. The full brunt of an infested Council sector will be enough. Daggoth… you will be the instrument of My vengeance." **

Daggoth shook, a mix of joy and fear of failure soaking into his being. _It is one thing to be commanded to consume all for the glory of the Swarm…it is another to do so for the purpose of taking Aiur. It seems I must pick up the pace._

_Wait… the Reapers. Father must be warned._

"Father," said Daggoth, "I welcome this task, for it is the most sacred of honors to be the vanguard of Your wrath. But You must be warned – for I have discovered a conspiracy that spans millennia-"

**"****You have discovered the **_**Reapers**_**,"** said the Overmind, leaving Daggoth surprised at both Its knowledge and the sheer amount of raw hate he had poured into the word. **"Yes, they are an old foe, the Foe that was Promised. The xel'naga sought their destruction, and took pain to make certain We would be ready. The Koprulu Sector's separation was no accident, and Our creators were as thorough as they were desperate."**

"What would You have me do?" asked Daggoth eagerly, hoping for some instruction in engaging the only foe that commanded both fear and respect from him.

**"****Our merging with the protoss was at the behest of one who walked with the xel'naga," **said the Overmind, **"one who brimmed with an undying rage that gave even our Creators pause. He walks the stars still, somewhere, his designs for vengeance fueling his every step. It was he who commanded that I consume the xel'naga. And it was he who told Me of the Reaper's plans, of places they might seek out to undo the xel'naga's web. Seek Ilos. Seek Feros. Stop this Reaper if you can, Daggoth, but do not cease your invasion. The Reapers are our opposition, but the protoss, for their sins, are our **_**enemies.**_** And they will suffer. Go forth, My son… and prepare to wreak a bloody vengeance on those who would slay your brothers. Grow, and then rally, and then strike."**

The Overmind's presence slid away, and Daggoth could sense Its relief as it did so; the Overmind tried not to show it, but maintaining such a connection took a monumental effort. Daggoth was left with two worlds to investigate, and countless planets to conquer.

_Ilos. Feros._

Two fresh leviathans promptly had ships freshly implanted in their guts, and Daggoth sent them forth to the respective planets, checking on his position and opposition on every world. _Geth reinforcements, artillery strikes, air strikes, minefields…most vexing. All will melt away before the rage of my Swarm._

Using ultralisks and dekuunalisks as shields for his more fragile, smaller broods, Daggoth sent forth defilers to cough up choking clouds over infantry companies, causing their targeting systems (and eyes) to become confused and useless. With a few swift, if costly moves, Daggoth gained rapid ground on Irune and Zada Ban. As the turians began a controlled retreat, laying down mines as they did so, Daggoth sent queens overhead and infested the loudest turians, the ones who were given orders. _It_ s_hould be useful to get a peek into that military machine of theirs. It is unfortunate I cannot do the same for the geth._

Daggoth prepared more leviathans, using his already existing ones to transport fresh troops from Therum and Yex'por to shore up his losses on the volus worlds. Meanwhile, he looked to the galaxy map again and tried to determine further targets. This was interrupted when his leviathan reached Feros, and he sensed something deeply wrong.

The leviathan stopped, hovering just outside the atmosphere of the planet, twisting and grunting in the void. It, too, had sensed something was amiss, though it was outside of its mental capacity to react in any way save vague discomfort and anxiety.

Daggoth directed his full attention to the debris-choked planet below. Feros was a vast ruin, a graveyard for the fallen Prothean Empire, and a testament to the destruction the Reapers were capable of. Daggoth scanned the planet, first with the eyes of his leviathan, then with several overlords that he had the leviathan belch forth from its guts. Neither saw any sign of life beyond the long still and silent ruins. _And no protheans walk among the stars any longer._ It made Daggoth feel strangely sad. _They will never know the comfort of the Swarm, the joy of being made a part of something greater. The Reapers exterminated them, without any promise of salvation that I can see. The galaxy may fear us, and with good reason, but there will be life and peace under the watchful eye of my Father. And there will be love, yes. Under the Reapers, however…_

Daggoth felt something stir under the surface of Feros. And he realized why he felt so strangely, yet was unable to see anything with his overlords. He commanded his zerg to land on the planet immediately, and reached out with his mind.

There was something… vast, ancient, and alien living within Feros. Daggoth's mind brushed against it immediately; inevitable considering the consciousness of the creature permeated the entire planet. Daggoth received not only an immediate sense of unfamiliarity and age, but also that of…sluggishness. Of the kind of patience he had only ever known his Father to be capable of. Something on Feros had woken up, and Daggoth was the reason why.

The consciousness shifted, and Daggoth thought he could hear the entire planet creak and shudder as it did so. Then everything went silent, and Daggoth's zerg stilled. Suddenly, Feros went from seemingly dead and silent to _very attentive_.

The consciousness reached out with the surety and unstoppable ponderousness of a glacier, touching Daggoth's mind and promptly recoiling. Daggoth caught a flash of countless civilizations sitting above the being, whatever it was, and then the vision was lost. Daggoth himself reached out…and was promptly surprised as the Being of Theros lashed out, grabbing on to his mind and pulling it, heedless of Daggoth's pain.

Daggoth trembled, quivered, and then shuddered in his nest on Therum as he fought for control of his consciousness as this _creature_, ancient, uncaring, and merciless, tried to storm his very being and dictate his mind. Everywhere throughout Council space, the zerg spasmed, went berserk, and attacked anything that was nearby. Therum had erupted into chaos, with even the drones having gone mad, attacking their own hive clusters with their clumsy claws.

Daggoth was barely aware of this, preoccupied as he was with maintaining even simple control of his faculties. Trying not to panic, he recalled the voice of his Father. The warm tone, the sense of family and safety. The honor that his Father had bestowed upon him. _Am I to fail so soon after being gifted with such lofty goals? No! _So he resisted, drawing strength from memory, and then from nearby hive clusters, draining them of life to bolster his own flagging reserves. This _creature,_ the Being of Therum, persisted, refusing to let go of its prey. Daggoth knew not of what it intended, of what mad desire for control drove it on, but he refused to belong to anyone but the blessed Overmind. And, after eight hours of struggle, in which the Tiamat Brood almost completely lost control of itself, it finally relinquished its grasp.

**"****Wretched being of filth and flesh," **said the Being as it released control, its voice in Daggoth's mind, raw and foreign. **"You are unwelcome here, Harbinger of the Old Ones. You bear witness to the awakening of the Thorian. Feros is forever denied to you. Countless feet have walked it, but never shall yours. Fall to your knees, skittering ones, or depart from this place, never to return." **

"I do not know what you are," said Daggoth, trying to hide his rank exhaustion, "but your hubris is a hollow thing when coupled with such ignorance. We are the Swarm, and this planet is ours."

**"****The Thorian is all," **came the reply, disinterested and malevolent. **"I alone have survived the coming of the Cold Ones, time and time again, their taking of the flesh. You are all **_**meat**_**, and another age of rot will follow these words. The time is nigh, and their vanguard is **_**here**_**."**

It was then that the Thorian retreated as suddenly as it had struck, sinking back into the earth, somewhere deep in Feros. And Daggoth became aware of another presence, as unwelcome and surprising as the Thorian, if slightly more familiar.

"Sovereign…"

Somewhere on the planet, T'soni walked the ruins, and the Reaper waited. The Thorian's words echoing through his mind, Daggoth hesitated… and then sent his zerglings plunging on, deep into the ruins, in search of some of the only beings he had ever feared.


	27. Of Fickle Gods

**Liara**

Liara had imagined coming to Feros, now and again. It was, after all, one of the few planets that bore ruins across the entirety of its surface; a prothean megalopolis that still survived despite the deaths of the people that had inhabited it. It was a silent ruin, one that had poisoned the soil of the planet against any agriculture, and clogged the air with its dust. _This is a planet that demands respect. It only ever recognized the protheans as its master._

A sharp pain pressed into Liara's temple then, reminding her of her own master, of what her long awaited arrival on the planet had actually looked like. _Trapped in the belly of a vengeful star god. I came here for reasons that weren't my own._ Her legs walked without her noticing, her breathing was ragged and uncontrolled. When Liara tripped while climbing over an ancient fallen pillar, her arms helped block her fall, but she had no idea whether that was her own doing, simple biological instinct, or Sovereign's steadily increasing mastery of her mind. Liara knew, deep down, that there were still some vestiges of herself left; she could still think somewhat freely, though her mind would inevitably be drawn into whatever task Sovereign had set for her.

_No matter the direction I think I'm going in, the end result is always the same. I'll end up where Sovereign wants me, doing the things he wants me to do._ The scientist in Liara was fascinated by this, this strange method of control that had taken hold of her. That part of her wanted to take notes, to document changes, to leave _something_ behind that would give people an idea of the kinds of powers these Reapers possessed, perhaps discover a cure. The rest of her was screaming.

Liara stopped, listening to the dull trudging behind her, the low electronic crackles of her geth escort. Her head turned stiffly, taking in the sight of the geth that were ostensibly there to protect her, their gleaming, immaculate surfaces a stark contrast to the crumbling and dust-ridden ruins that surrounded them. Their glowing eyes met her own gaze, shifting slightly in place. Whatever machine thoughts they had in regards to her or the Reaper who held her under sway were unknown. Liara took a jerky, shuddering breath, and tried to reestablish some vestige of control and independence.

"What am I looking for?" asked Liara, the sentence coming out in a sudden rush. Her body felt heavy, and sweat was running down her scalp, chest, and arms. The dust in the air was also taking hold; she had already had to stop and cough several times, making Sovereign rage at the delay, and the fragility of organics. _This planet saw your like once before, demon. It remembers you._ _Perhaps… perhaps it might even stop me._

_Is that where I am? Hoping for my death? What would mother think? What would she do if this happened to her? _

**"****I extracted everything I needed from the beacon on Eden Prime,"** said Sovereign, **"but it requires a deeper understanding of the wretched protheans to be made sense of. Their extinction has caused far more problems than any other cycle. You will correct this." **

"But what am I _looking_ for?" Liara forced out, her voice starting off a low growl before turning into a sudden shriek. _No control… he can't press me. I'll become too damaged. My body has become a battleground. _

**"****An entrance," **said Sovereign. **"There is life here, T'soni, and it will be found. Something that has dwelt here for many long millennia, slumbering. It remembers the protheans. It drank the water of their aqueducts, consumed the decaying bodies of their dead. It will give me the information I need."**

"Will it?" said Liara, before her hands covered her face in a sudden shock of pain.

**"****Even animals eventually learn their place, T'soni,"** said Sovereign, all quiet menace as he twisted the knife. Liara fell to her knees, feeling yet more pain as they met hard rock and immediately bruised. **"Resistance will be met with agony. You dare contest my will here? On a planet I helped destroy personally?" **

The pain banished any sense of control, any semblance of righteous anger or rebellion. As it faded, Liara only felt weary acceptance, lifting her head and meeting the uncaring gaze of the heretic geth that surrounded her without any emotion. _Every time I push like that, another part of me, a big part, dies. _

_What would mother do?_

Liara straightened, dusted herself, and surveyed her surroundings with a steely gaze. _Resist only at the most crucial moment. The Reapers have a plan, I saw it. I am standing in the culmination of it._ Liara remembered her mother, dressed in yellow, standing resplendent in Thessia's garden parks while she dug for prothean relics. _Hold on to that image, Liara. Hold on to it. That's what I am fighting for, really._ The Donnellys flashed by as well, their silhouettes standing stark against the light of Sovereign's gun. _And vengeance. Such a small thing. The vengeance of a wayward archaeologist…_

**"****Something new…"** Sovereign's voice rumbled through Liara's being, shaking her back to uncertain senses. Her body was still stopped, and the geth around her had flattened themselves against standing pillars, crouched behind fallen ones. Their electronic clicks and crackles had gone silent, and one grabbed her stiffly by the arm before yanking her, not ungently, behind the ruin of what might once have been some prothean bench. **"Unacceptable. The zerg are here."**

A giddiness, a kind of hysterical amusement at the universe's continual obsession with forcing Liara and deadly, implacable forces together in prothean ruins, took hold of the holdouts of resistance in her mind. All that emerged from her body was a brief snort of air from her nostrils, causing dust to cascade off of the destroyed bench in a small avalanche. _Of course. Why not throw in the protoss as well? Perhaps, between the three of them, this planet might be destroyed entirely._

**"****Relaying instructions to geth complement. T'soni, seek out the entrance. Stay close to your guard."**

"Of course," said Liara, or at least the body that had once called itself that. Her mind was still busy alternating between rejoicing at Sovereign's possible defeat, fear of what the zerg might do, and simple hysteria. _I never knew… laughter can reside only the spirit. Every time I laughed as a free asari, my mind was laughing too… like this. _The scientist in Liara took note. Everything else despaired.

Liara's body was peering around the side of the bench. The geth were quietly chirping to one another, and Liara thought she could hear the faint roar of an engine. _Geth ship._ Sure enough, one of their strange, almost organic-like ships made a pass overhead, causing Liara's head to snap left as several deep, echoing thuds rebounded through the quiet ruins. Dust was cast everywhere from the sudden impacts, and from each crater emerged, from the choking dust, the large, red form of the larger geth. _Primes._

Their own chirps were deeper, almost seeming to cause the very air to crackle with static. When one let out a deeper groan, the geth all moved forward as one; they rounded pillars or stood from the dusty wrecks of fallen ones, and began to advance from cover to cover. The primes, however, with heavy stride, walked through the ruins without any attempt at concealment. Their considerable height and weight precluded such.

Liara's body now moved like a commando, purely at Sovereign's behest. _So. That's how he wanted me all along. All obedient, with my biotics at his command, using them only to kill._ Liara could feel her every breath, increasingly ragged due to the exertion and the dust, feel the burn of her own legs as she crouched for minutes on end behind a wall of ragged concrete, waiting for the geth to continue their slow advance. But it was like watching a vid, really. She was bound to what she saw and heard, but she could no more control what she was seeing than she could the cameras through a screen.

The geth all froze suddenly, even the quiet chirps ceasing. Liara was standing at the back, behind a portion of an aqueduct that had collapsed and fallen through the ceiling in some distant age. When she peered around her cover, she only saw geth, standing silently as far as she could see. _Where did their speaker go, I wonder? The one who I convinced to stand with the rest of the galaxy against the zerg. What I wouldn't give for a voice other than Sovereign's right now…_

One of the geth soldiers to her left met her gaze briefly, its lens scaling back to get a better look at her. Less than a second after it did so, its barriers flared, and the air filled with faint whistling sounds as the dust was disturbed by the flight path of unseen projectiles.

Liara had yet to see the geth in action firsthand, or even any soldier in combat really. She had seen vids, however, so she was still surprised at how quiet the geth were as they reacted to this fresh threat. The first geth had already collapsed, its barriers broken, its chest plate oozing white from the many puncture wounds it had sustained from its unseen assailant. The other geth reacted, not with fear, simply urgency, shifting to cover themselves from the direction their fallen comrade had been attacked from, and the primes lumbered away from the paths they had been on before, now trudging toward an unknown enemy. _But I think we can guess what's about to happen._

Even under the thrall of a Reaper, Liara still gasped sharply as a deep and gurgling hiss crawled through the air. The geth paused. And then Feros went mad.

The air was rent with shrieks and hissing, and the geth's weapons began to report, interspersing the zerg's war cries with bursts of pulse fire. From behind pillars, from the holes in the architecture, from above and below, the zerg flew into action. Many were low to the ground, about the size of varren, drooling and angry. And others cast shadows before them before appearing, sliding around the ruins with a mixture of confidence and menace that Liara just _felt_ was born of being an apex predator. _But they're only one of many._

The creature's face was a mess of teeth, with two mandibles extending past its jaw, almost reminiscent of a turian's. Liara watched in fascination as the creature closest to her shuddered and hissed with the impact of several pulse rounds before lowering its head. To either side of its now lowered head opened flaps at least two feet long at either side. The geth it was facing quickly ducked behind a broken piece of wall at this display, and Liara quickly realized why. The zerg organism jerked several times, and more whistling filled the air as strange, obviously deadly quills were propelled from the flaps at incredible speeds, ripping the geth's cover to shreds in seconds.

**"****Organic fear impulses are difficult to control," **said Sovereign, causing Liara to duck behind cover as pitched battle began to be waged. **"Your imprint attracts them, T'soni. You would have been a powerful weapon in their hands." **All this did was make Liara wish she had vented herself out the airlock back on Therum. **"You must move quickly. The geth can only delay the zerg, and I can mask you from Daggoth for only so long. **_**Move.**_**"**

The buildings quaked again as geth ships roared overhead, deploying their belligerent payloads. Liara heard a loud crash as yet more crumbling prothean architecture gave way to the fresh stresses. Liara felt her legs tense…

…and then she was running. This time, she and Sovereign worked in tandem, propelling her body through the chaos as fast as possible. _This is a vid. Action scene now._

The geth line was barely holding, and her original protectors had vanished under the waves of howling zerg. Liara leapt over a geth arm that was lying and twitching in a pool of white. She darted around one of the strange mandible-scythe creatures as it reared before a prime, huge chunks of brown carapace flying from its chest as the geth's weapon fired twice, burning through the creature in a bright flash. Liara didn't turn around to see the result, and neither she nor Sovereign wanted to.

The smaller zerg were everywhere, some dying, many running. The geth seemed to be eternally backpedaling from them, firing indiscriminately; most of the chaos could be attributed to both the racket and the sheer numbers of the small zerg. As Liara tried to sprint free of the brutal melee, one spotted her and turned, hissing. Liara punted it away with a flick of a glowing wrist, leaving it collapsed against a dusty wall.

On an uncontrollable instinct, Liara's body looked behind her once, letting her take in the carnage she was swiftly leaving behind. A prime was collapsing beneath a wave of smaller zerg that had propelled themselves atop it, stabbing and shrieking wildly until the geth could take no more. With a deafening electric howl, the prime exploded, searing its killers with lethal shrapnel. Elsewhere, plumes of flame were erupting from unseen geth defenders; they had adapted their own weapons and brought them to bear against the zerg. The dust was now being choked with ash, and the zerg were completely occupied by their synthetic enemies. Liara's pace did not slow.

While she did not know her destination, or even the direction she might be running in at any given moment, Liara did her best to try and assist with the movement of her legs. _Capture by the zerg would be worse than this. There's no doubt of that. They twist life until there's no trace of what was there before…_ She shook her head. _My thoughts, or Sovereign's? I can't even tell anymore._

Liara emerged, panting, from the ruins. She now stood under open sky, though it was hard to see through the dust and ash. Before her was a vast expanse of road, pockmarked with holes where the integrity had finally succumbed to the ravages of time. From behind, Liara could still hear the dull thumps and piercing shrieks of the combatants she had left behind her. Ahead, geth ships and zerg fliers tangled with each other in dust choked skies, twisting and turning, yet barely visible through the haze of ruin.

_Have to traverse the highway._ Liara paused, panting. _Sovereign allowing me a moment of rest. Can he see my heartrate? Feel my pulses? Does he know when to stop pushing? _Part of Liara hoped he didn't, hoped her body would fail the Reaper at some very inopportune moment. The rest of her was completely terrified, though.

Liara felt her legs start to cramp, but suddenly felt compelled to sprint anyway, her lungs struggling to catch up with her errant brain and limbs. Liara's mind desperately tried to focus on something other than the sudden stabs of pain and the sweat now being copiously expelled from her body. _Sovereign doesn't know my body's limits… reminds me of an old lecture. Matriarch Helena, I think. "If our brains removed all limit to our muscles, we could be as strong as krogan, but our bodies would rip themselves apart." Will it come to that?_

Liara's worn boots pounded the concrete, shortly becoming the only thing she could hear other than her ragged breathing. The sounds from behind her had faded away, and the fighting that had raged above had now moved elsewhere. Liara's body panted while her mind alternated between rage and despair, all too aware of the utter indifference of her master to her struggle. _Must continue. No, not must. A choice. Have to live. Stop the zerg at least._

**"****A worthy goal, young meat," **boomed a deep, gurgling voice, one that was completely unfamiliar. **"These beings pollute the air of the Old Growth, coat the soil with toxins. The Thorian bids you welcome."**

Everything faded to black. Liara's vision was gone, the breathing was gone, the concrete was gone. There wasn't even panic, just a kind of weary resignation at the horrors she seemed to stumble upon on a near daily basis now.

Then, there was sound. A dull throbbing sound, a faint creaking. There was smell, even. Earthy, like the soil Liara's hands were coated in back at Thessia's parks. _Why do I think back to that so often? I suppose I want my mother…_

For the first time since Sovereign had assumed near total control, Liara felt a wave of sadness and nostalgia that had nothing to do with her enslavement, but rather a deep, aching worry for the only family she had ever known. This was shortly thereafter replaced with a terrible, terrible sensation that she was being observed closely. _What in the Goddess is going on?_

**"****I have displaced the last remnants of your thinking meat, Young Psionic," **came the voice again, **"so that it might better serve my magnificence. You crawl atop my trunk, blind, pathetic, weeping."**

"Who are you?" asked Liara, wondering if her body was vocalizing back…wherever it was. _Psionic?_

**"****I am the Old Growth, the Thorian," **came the reply. **"Had you the power to wrest control free, I would command you bow at my presence. Few has the Old Growth deigned to speak to, fewer still has the Old Growth failed to consume. You represent the coming fire, the root of rot in the galaxy."**

"The Reapers?" said Liara, fairly certain that was whom this… thing was speaking of. "Not willingly, not anymore. My body moves at Sovereign's command now, not my own."

**"****Yet your thinking meat has split at the trunk, formed a new growth," **said the Thorian. **"The sun has passed over Feros many times since last a psionic's feelers crept through it. Now there are three – the Old One, the zerg mind… and you."**

"I'm not a psionic," said Liara, certain that was something she would be quite aware of if it were the case. "The asari have no such capabilities. Please… can you free me? Can you do anything about the zerg or the Reapers?" _It speaks like Sovereign, and seems unimpressed by it. I don't know what this Thorian is, but it may be able to help._

The black turned a faint shade of red, and Liara felt a surge of fear as there was the sound of a distant tremor, of something enormous moving.

**"****You lie. Or worse, are ignorant, and thus only meat, fit solely for decomposition. The Old Growth is Feros, nothing more. My glory extends only as far as this planet. The Thorian does not concern itself with the petty strife of Reaper, of Council, of xel'naga. But we will converse. We will discuss. Spread your leaves, Young Psionic. **_**Breathe…**_**"**

Liara's vision suddenly returned. Her hand was pressed against a worn, half-broken pillar, and she was rounding it carefully. The air was still and heavy with the ruin that coated the planet – and she felt that she was wounded. She looked down, saw a raw gash across her stomach, the red seeping through the fabric of her coat. _I don't even feel anything… and Sovereign didn't even make an attempt to cover the cut with anything._

_I'm bleeding freely. I'm being routinely possessed and hunted by powers beyond my comprehension, powers that even Dis would have struggled to deal with. People around me are getting hurt. The galaxy looks poised to end._

_I'm going to die. Here. On Feros. I think I have to._

The air tasted strange to Liara, and she thought the ruins had taken on a hint of yellow. Her body was descending now, heading down cracked concrete ramps that were strewn with chunks of debris and old, thick roots. _Some kind of gas maybe? Or maybe parts of the megalopolis were constructed with some different material? _It didn't matter. The body was breathing deep; Liara suspected she just missed some kind of thrilling escape involving the zerg. Her head hung low suddenly, watched the blood fall in little droplets on to the shattered floor.

**"****More organic failings," **spat Sovereign. **"A single zerg did this to you. Your body has become even more clumsy, your mind ever more frail. Your usefulness dims, T'soni. One last duty, and then you die. Your galaxy will follow shortly after." **

_We are agreed, then. _Liara steeled herself. _What little willpower I have…have to save it for a critical moment. Whatever Sovereign is making me do, I have to resist._

Liara's breathing was beginning to slow. The ramp was twisting and turning, and her steps became heavier and heavier, her path traced with blood. Finally, the path levelled, a final corner was turned, and she came face to face with what Sovereign was undoubtedly looking for.

Before her, groaning like trees bending and twisting in a summer storm, was an enormous brown creature. Feelers fell from an old face that was as etched and inflexible looking as bark, while the face itself was attached to a vast stretch of some earthy-smelling substance that was latching the creature to the prothean architecture. The architecture itself had given way into some kind of cistern; a vast, crumbling, and damp pit that was now devoid of the water or protheans that had once given it purpose. Now there was only what Liara knew to be the Thorian.

Liara had stopped altogether, and all of a sudden the pain came rushing in, where there was no pain before. Liara doubled over, coughing, one hand feeling for her woundwhile the other pressed against the floor and kept her upright. After the coughing fit ended after a few pain-filled minutes, Liara realized that she had full control once more.

"Free…" she muttered, pushing herself up with her free hand before staggering under the sudden dizziness. Sovereign's hold had vanished. There was only her, and-

**"****The Old Growth commands your attention and awe, Young Psionic," **said the Thorian. **"It is I who you have to thank for the reprieve from the Old Ones. My spores crawl through your veins now, freeing you from Sovereign's controlling roots… and placing you under my thrall. Fall to your knees." **

Liara fell, hard, one hand useless at her side while the other still clutched her bleeding stomach. She looked up at the face of the Thorian, which grunted and creaked, looking at her with its enormous, eyeless face.

"Thank you," said Liara. "I don't know what you want, but if you hate Sovereign and the zerg, I can't see how you would possibly be worse."

**"****The Old Growth covers Feros," **said the Thorian. **"I hold dominion over land, sea, and sky. The zerg gnaw at my roots, while the Old One's machines play with their fire. I have pried you loose from the grip of its feelers to become appraised with the galaxy. The protheans no longer walk. The zerg are new. And the Amon's little treasures remain, as he asked." **

Liara had no idea what the Thorian was talking about, and a distant rumble caught her attention and made her look up. Small chunks fell from the ceiling, though the Thorian seemed unperturbed. Liara realized why as she looked around and saw roots, twisted around pillars, digging into the earth. _The Thorian is some kind of psionic plant. It's dug in on Feros. Roots going deep._

**"****The Old One brings you before my glory," **said the Thorian. **"Though with it, come the zerg. Daggoth's seeds. Where have these creatures drifted from? The Old Growth commands." **

"The Koprulu Sector," blurted Liara. "A star cluster far from here. It brings with it a fresh hell. Sovereign wants to stop them, burn the entire galaxy and start anew, but I wouldn't trust him, I wouldn't trust him, _I wouldn't trust him._"

"Doctor speak true!" snarled a voice from the shadows, making Liara jump and bang her knees once more. She stood suddenly, still holding the gash, backing away from the guttural voice that had appeared as if from nowhere. She could just barely see a humanoid silhouette lurching from the shadows – short, yet spiky and bulky.

The eyes were the first thing she noted, orange and feral. They were surrounded by a pinched, spiked face and a pair of vicious looking mandibles, all a horrible purple hue. The creature's limbs were short, and terminated in terribly sharp looking claws that clacked against each other as the creature peered out of the dark, its head snapping between Liara and the Thorian.

**"****You have breathed deep in the gases of the Old Growth, Seed of Daggoth," **intoned the Thorian, disbelief now creeping into its creaking voice. **"What vile evolution is this?" **

"We are Swarm, yet we are vorcha!" snapped the creature, its pitch and volume rising and falling uncontrollably. "Specialized cells. Zerg fight and war above, spores contaminate all. But vorcha are STRONG! Vorcha, ADAPT! Through me, speaks Daggoth."

The orange in the eyes flickered and began to darken. The sharp, sudden movements of the vorcha stiffened and slowed, and it left its half crouch and straightened.

"I am Daggoth, son of the Overmind, scion of the Swarm." The vorcha ground its teeth slowly, a methodical, deadly sound. "Both of you have done me grievous harm, though there is time yet to repent. We do not wish to see the galaxy burn."

"You're the zerg leader," said Liara. "The one who stopped me on Therum."

"I lead not all the zerg," came the reply, cold, methodical, yet somehow melodious. "I am but a delegate to a far greater power, sent forth to take this galaxy and its peoples, as it was foretold." The vorcha turned to the Thorian, snarled, and looked back at Liara, eyes full of hate. "But you have chosen a darker prophecy, Doctor. You unwittingly herald the end of all. The zerg were born to do battle with the Reapers, to rid the galaxy of their stagnating influence. Yet you would stand with them?"

"Against my will," said Liara. "Look, perhaps-"

**"****The Old Growth speaks," **said the Thorian, causing Liara to feel a sharp stab of pain in her scalp before turning silent. **"The Old Growth has witnessed the coming of the Old Ones time and time again. It is a cycle that cannot be broken, can barely be comprehended. Meat rises, the Old Ones come, planets fall, the meat rises again. The galaxy's soil is nourished by the dead. What claim can your Swarm lay towards ending the cycle?"**

"We were born of the xel'naga," replied the vorcha, the last word rising to a scream. "The Overmind has told me of our purpose, and Its will must be done. The Reapers fear us, and rightfully so. I will bring this galaxy to heel. When the Reapers arrive, it will be to face a united galaxy… a ZERG GALAXY!"

There was another rumble overhead, and this time a distant crash followed it. The Thorian made a deep creaking sound, its head shifting upwards slightly. _I think the action is getting closer. The Thorian can establish control over organics, but the geth are another matter._

_I shudder to think of the relics and architecture the fighting is destroying._

**"****A claim of force," **said the Thorian, sounding slightly impressed. **"You have scattered your seeds wide, Scion of the Swarm, but the harvest is lengthy. The harvest is thorough. And the xel'naga's name means little now, when their reign is long forgotten. Still, your strength of mind surprises the Old Growth. The leaves stir with a new wind, a wind blown by your Overmind."**

"Do not listen to him!" said Liara, running towards the Thorian, whose head turned to face her. "The zerg are destroying everything – they can be no more trusted than the Reapers. They're two sides of the same coin – they're old, they make promises, but they just want to destroy everything, even you!"

**"****The Old Growth is no stranger to death," **came the oddly calm reply of the Thorian. **"Many saplings once clawed their way through the earth here, my siblings. I killed them all, until only I remained. As I have slept through millennia, survived countless cycles, watched as distant suns burnt into cinders, I acknowledged both my might and my mortality. It is through the former that I hold dominion over Feros, and over you. It is through the latter that I might be challenged. Let it be a contest, then."**

The Thorian twisted, edging itself forward, bringing its face almost to Liara's own. Liara stood, shaking, rooted to the spot by the great plant.

**"****Come forth, then, Sovereign."**

Liara twisted, and her mouth slackened. Her arms fell away from her wound and her head snapped up, eyes burning with a distant fire.

**"You are**** a foolish creature, if you think to defy me," **said Liara, her voice suddenly as cold and deep as the cistern the Thorian dwelt in. **"This flesh is mine, and neither you nor the zerg shall have it from me." **

"All flesh belongs to the Swarm!" cried the vorcha, now shrieking. "The galaxy trembles before us, and rejects your metal, Sovereign!"

**"****We care little for the galaxy's wishes," **said Liara's mouth, her tongue licking the inside of her teeth and toying with the gum underneath** – **a puppeteer toying with the puppet, testing its make. **"Our actions preserve life at all costs. Our sacrifices are numerous, but our strength is unfailing. Thorian, you would be wise to relinquish your control and grant me the Cypher, lest you be the first casualty of the new cycle." **

**"****I have spat my seed into the heavens and watched them drift far and wide," **said the Thorian, sounding amused. **"My roots are sunk deep, **_**deep.**_** You could no more slay the Old Growth entire than you could destroy every star in the sky. Still, strength must be respected. Your threat is recognized." **The Thorian shifted again as another rumble shook the roof of the cistern. It returned its gaze to Daggoth. **"Enlighten the Old Growth, Scion. Why should the Zerg Swarm receive my blessing and assistance?" **

"Because we gnaw at your roots!" screamed the vorcha. "Because you live, as do we! You have an obligation of flesh and life! You will assist us or be choked by our Creep, torn apart by my vorchlings! I will not rest until I have sought out every trace of your feeble existence, torn it free, AND DEVOURED IT WHOLE!"

The Thorian surveyed the vorcha with curiosity, before fixing its gaze on Liara, whose shoulders fell as Sovereign suddenly let go.

**"****Both threaten the Old Growth," **said the Thorian. **"Both are judged as strong flesh, meat most mighty. They would feed the soil of Feros for many years. Yet, they are still unwelcome here. Come close, child. The Cypher goes to you. It will amuse me to see how you choose for the galaxy to die." **

The feelers spread, and Liara, spurred forward by the Thorian, leapt within. To her surprise, the sensation was not that unpleasant – the noises the Thorian made were disgusting, but it was otherwise quite warm, and the creature was gentle. A sudden influx of images followed her quick assessment of sensation – towering obelisks before prostrate figures, spires rising into the sky in defiance of the coming darkness, texts upon texts documenting the rise and fall of the empire she would never otherwise get to see.

And, in those last few moments, Liara saw, and understood.

The Thorian had not watched the prothean's final hours on Feros, but he had consumed every corpse that had been callously dumped off of the highways or other high places, took everything that was left. It had slept, drank, and digested. It knew the protheans as meat, clever meat, and it knew exactly what they had done. _It ate their scientists, and came to understand just how the cycle had been altered._

Ilos. The planet contained a back door to the Citadel. If the Reapers controlled it, they would lock the relays and pick off the entire galaxy, an isolated sector at a time.

And if the zerg controlled it, they would decapitate the heads of the Citadel government in one foul stroke.

Liara was lowered gently back on to the platform, facing the vorcha.

**"****Choose, Doctor," **said the Thorian. **"The Old Growth judges both sides of equal weight, capable of great feats of terror." **

Liara wanted to ask why the Thorian was doing this, but she felt she knew. _It senses that regardless of what happens, it'll be struck down. It wants to relish this one last moment of control. Watch the meat quiver before it._

She looked to the vorcha. She had not seen the creatures in person before, though she was familiar enough with how they looked. The infested specimen looked a great deal more vicious than the Codex entry picture did, but it otherwise appeared none the worse for wear. _It even spoke for itself before Daggoth took control._

She looked inward, heard the whispers, watched the walls of the cistern seem to turn to faces and jerk unsteadily into some kind of life. _That's what awaits. But it might be kinder that way. Death at their hands, instead of being perverted by the zerg…_

_Mother? Why aren't you here? Why didn't I go with you? What would you do? I'm so sorry. I don't think I can get this right._

_Goddess help me._

"I choose both," said Liara, her voice cold, something which surprised even her. "You said you value strength, but judged both sides of equal power. I challenge this. I will relinquish the Cypher to both parties. Let the stronger prove his rightness. Let the mighty dominate the weak." _Let the two wear themselves out until someone else picks them off. It's a choice of two dooms, and I'm not in a position to do better. _

The vorcha stepped forward. Liara placed a hand on either side of its head, smiled down at it. The carapace felt hard, yet surprisingly smooth, like the metal on a warship.

"Embrace eternity!"

Liara gasped as her mind touched with Daggoth's, and recoiled at the force with which he grasped at her mind, drinking her memories with a desperation that surprised her. He stopped just as quickly as he started, the vorcha stepping away, its mandibles widening to accommodate the unmistakable grin on its face.

Liara, tired, bleeding, and alone, dug back into her mind.

"Sovereign…"

The ship did not speak to her, simply ripped the Cypher from her mind with such force that Liara did not feel any pain as she blacked out. She woke seconds later, the vorcha now standing over her.

"As it should be," said Daggoth through the twisted mouth of his pet. "You leave this to a test of might. Though, truth be told, the zerg fight the galaxy entire, on top of Sovereign and his wretched machines. The zerg will still prevail."

**"****Leave the meat where she lies, Scion," **bellowed the Thorian. **"She has pleased the Old Growth, a precious rare accomplishment. She will be preserved for my amusement." **

"You can all…choke on your arrogance…" gasped Liara. "I die here…free."

"No, Doctor," said Daggoth. "You yet have a role to play, and my Father would be most displeased if you were to die in this unhallowed place. Thorian – you will relinquish her."

**"****Wretched seed," **bellowed the Thorian. **"The Thorian will not be defied! Leave this planet and do not return, lest I spread my spores ever skyward, and make my own bid for supremacy!" **

"Zerglings gnaw at your roots," said Daggoth as Liara twisted, grunting in pain as she made her way to the edge of the cistern, clawing herself on top of her wounded belly. "We will tear you free from this planet! In the name of the Overmind, you shall be preserved, if only you GIVE US THE DOCTOR!"

Liara looked forward, sweat and blood crawling hot and thick down her scalp. She was just a few feet from the edge. _Throw myself over. End it. So sorry, mother. So sorry…_

**"****You promise true?" **said the Thorian. **"In the name of your Overmind?"**

Liara did not hear the response. All she could hear was the rush of blood in her own head, her own quiet gasps of pain. The top of her scalp crossed the threshold.

**"****Then let it be so." **

The Thorian creaked, twisting from where it was suspended. Liara felt another short stab of pain, and then lost sight of everything – then she was born up, up, up.


	28. Backlash

**James**

Jim stared out from the safety of the Kel-Morian Combine space station Icarus-8 into the emptiness of space. The array of stars, wandering asteroids, and splendid gases all twisted and danced before him, though in truth they only barely held his attention. Jim lifted his arm, brought the flask of liquor to his questing lips. When he lowered the flask again, he swirled it and noticed it was almost empty already. _A pity._ Jim couldn't sleep, so he drank. It helped dim the images of mushroom clouds and the rushing onslaught of ravenous zerg. _Magistrate didn't rescue everyone. I don't think he even rescued all of _me_, even._

When they had jumped, Jim had no idea where they were headed, or what would happen when they got there. He hadn't been surprised to arrive in KMC space; they were the only faction that could properly oppose Mengsk and Duke at this time. This still didn't mean he was enthused about being there, either. _Bunch of slavers and Vespene barons, sittin' on top of a pile of money and enslaved children._ _Least they ain't been messin' around with zerg, far as I know._

The arrangements to dock had been made by Harper. The man had apparently made prior arrangements with the gentlemen in charge of the station, and they accepted an additional ship with a word of complaint. When they had learned that it was the Alpha Squadron flagship that was docking, they had in fact made numerous offers to both Jim and Harper for the purchase of the ship. _Not ungenerous offers, neither._

As it stood, however, both had to refuse. Having just made enemies with Mengsk, the man who had just wiped out Tarsonis and likely become the most powerful man in the Sector, they felt they could use every ship they had.

Since then, Jim had mostly been left to wait and recover. The surviving crew of _Norad II_ were comprised of numerous wounded men and women, aliens and terran alike. They needed time to heal from their physical and psychological wounds, and Harper needed time to make further arrangements with old contacts. _Heh. When he first signed on as Magistrate, I wondered if he knew about my checkered past. Now I know that was the least of his concerns; he's been fighting all over the sector._

"Jim," said someone behind him. _Kerrigan._ They hadn't met much over the last few days. Jim had been content to either brood in his cabin (Duke's old quarters) or drink on the space station. Matt was busy overseeing repairs. Kerrigan spent most of her time on a computer, trying to gain access to old ghost databanks that were likely no longer protected by anything other than automated systems since the Fall. He didn't see much reason to bother her, or anybody.

"Hey darlin'," said Jim, not turning around. "I know this ain't healthy, but just give me another day of this. Seen too many planets burnin' these last few weeks."

"If you say so," said Kerrigan, suddenly appearing at his side without making a sound, almost like…a ghost. He spared her a glance, noted with surprise that she had finally dressed down into civvies. _Heh. Probably sick of wearing skintight gear._ "Managed to crack through the ice, finally. I was right, there was no one on the other end anymore. Got access to some cash reserves, locations of a few safehouses, and schematics for some implants. Can only really use the cash, but still... enlightening, I guess. Sitting on two and a half million credits."

"That's nice," said Jim, chugging what was left of the flask. He gasped, smacked his lips, and stashed it back in one of his back pockets. "Heh. Don't rightly know what my parents would have said if they saw that money. Or what they'd do with it. They never really left Shiloh." He looked up again, through the glass, into the heavens. "But here I am. Rebellions gone wrong, aliens everywhere, now I'm rich. Well… we're rich."

"Not exactly rich," said Kerrigan, sounding a little amused. "Repairs, fuel, and maintenance come with pretty impressive price tags, Jim. We could burn through that money pretty easily."

"Yeah," said Jim, wishing the flask wasn't empty. "Glad we made it." He looked to Kerrigan, lips twitching, but unable to properly smile. "That it?"

"Harper wants us," said Kerrigan. "He's back from Moria, waiting aboard _Undertaker._ He figured we'd have some questions for him… and he says he has one for us as well. You up to it?"

"This ain't the hard stuff," said Jim, turning on his heel before pausing, letting Kerrigan lead the way. "You've read his mind, right? Any idea what exactly Cerberus is?"

"He's had training Jim," said Kerrigan, keeping a steady pace and not looking back. "I can't press too hard, or he'll suffer brain damage. They're definitely black ops. Arcturus mentioned that they were sent into Morian space during the Guild Wars for, as he put it "less than gentlemanly operations.""

"I don't need to hear that man quoted," said Jim, voice hard. "Only thing I want to hear from his lips are screams."

"I just thought it was a good quote," said Sarah, a little defensive. "Anyway, Cerberus ops were usually high risk, low body count, but plenty of collateral damage. They were responsible for the deaths of several prominent military officials, a handful of mercenary bands, refineries blowing up… that kind of thing."

"Hushing up alien activity, too," said Jim, thinking. "Got to speak to one of them briefly, back on Mar Sara. They were fighting the zerg, maybe the protoss. Didn't say much, though. Ghost files say anything about them?"

"No," said Kerrigan. "I got the impression that there were few, if any ghosts in Cerberus. No re-soc either. The Confederacy made it a point to only use volunteers."

"How humane of them," said Jim, warily eyeing the few other people that walked by them as they made for _Undertaker's _docking tube. _We're wanted men and women now, right? Could be a bounty. _

"Mengsk doesn't have time for us just yet, Jim," said Kerrigan. "I'm sure of it. He's got an empire to create."

"Yeah, and a couple billion graves to piss on," said Jim bitterly. "Wonder how many nukes it took afterward to neutralize the zerg? Harper said it took twenty-six just for New Gettysburg."

Sarah didn't respond, but Jim hadn't really wanted her to. _Can't save everyone Jim… heh. Let me just feel guilty about that instead of trying._

A pair of marines in advanced looking white and gold armor saluted as they approached, visors down. The one on the left hit the door panel, letting the tube doors hiss open.

"He's waiting for you," said the marine on the right. "Kerrigan, right? Confederacy had quite a file on you. If half of it is true, I don't need to give you directions."

"No," said Kerrigan. "You don't." She strode past them without another word, leaving Jim to give the two of them an acknowledging nod and a muttered thank you before proceeding. Their boots clanked against the rough floor of the docking tube, leaving Jim to note that it was far more worn and far less gaudy than _Norad II's._ _I remember Duke's comment about Harper's office. Guess he was all about presentation, even down to the docking tube._

The other end of the tube opened before they even touched the panel. A dark skinned man in ghost armor and wearing a red beret waited on the other side, smiling brightly at them as they approached.

"A warm welcome to you, Lieutenant, Captain. Harper waits in his quarters." The man raised his eyebrows. "However… ah. Lieutenant Kerrigan. Forgive me, I am a recent addition to Cerberus, post Mengsk's… recent disgraceful behavior. I never had the clearance to learn of you. You know where to go already, I suspect."

"You suspect correctly," said Kerrigan, nodding. "But thank you."

The ghost nodded again, smiling and bowing slightly, and then retreated out of view. Jim followed Kerrigan to the lift, looking at his surroundings.

Compared to his own bridge, _Undertaker's _design was far more utilitarian, and considerably less decadent. The edges of surfaces looked sharp and angular, the seats designed purely for efficiency, and all of the crew looked hard and worn. _Guess I made the right decision, never gunning for special forces. This don't look like no fun._

The crew uniforms that he saw were all likewise distinctly drab – simple mixtures of white and black, a small gold insignia on the right arm. _Huh. Their marines are more stylish than the rest of the ship combined._

The lift arrived and the doors opened, revealing an empty interior. Jim and Kerrigan entered and stood, facing the wall and engaging in the time-honored tradition of not talking to each other at all while riding it. When they reached the captain's quarters, Jim took a deep breath. _Got a suspicion that this is going to be a heavy conversation. Probably a long one, too._

The two walked into the captain's quarters, which surprised Jim in the simple fact that it looked like it was actually designed with comfort in mind. _Unlike the rest of the ship._ The floor was red rug, there was a large aquarium with several brightly colored fish swimming around inside, and it came equipped with its own chrome-plated bathroom and a spacious office area.

Jack Harper was sitting in that office, staring up at them with a small smile, a small computer in front of him. He had left two chairs in front of the desk for them and beckoned them to sit. Sarah and Jim did so, Jim again quietly muttering thanks. Harper turned his neck to each side once, cracking it each time before speaking.

"Raynor. Kerrigan. My apologies about leaving you on this godforsaken station, but I needed to speak to some KMC officials, give them the entire story. I trust the administrators of this ship have proven themselves hospitable to their guests?" He reached into his desk, removing an already opened bottle of hard liquor and a few glasses. Jim watched him twist off the cap and begin to pour, eyes narrowed in concentration.

"They left us alone," said Kerrigan, "and they've been covering Jim's bar tab, so they may as well be saints, as far as I can see."

"Drinking to forget, Captain?" asked Harper, finishing the last glass before neatly putting the cap back in place. "I understand. But I recommend holding off on this glass until after what I show you – you'll need it."

Harper tapped a few keys on his keyboard before turning the monitor around. An online video of a UNN clip was beginning to play, and Harper left his seat to stand behind the two of them as the UNN signature jingle began to play. On the screen was a billowing Korhal flag and a few simple words displayed on the bottom of the screen.

**Coronation of Arcturus I, Emperor of the Terran Dominion**

**Terran Dominion Throne World Korhal**

"Aw, hell," muttered Jim as triumphant brass instruments began to play.

"My fellow terrans," came the smooth voice of the man Jim had sworn to kill. "I come to you in light of this recent tragedy to offer consolation and vengeance. Let no man deny the tumultuous nature of our times."

"Where once we stood confident in the fact that we alone were the dominant species among these stars, now there is only confusion and peril. Our faith and our preconceptions have been shattered, while our long-held certainty in the power of terran ingenuity and the human spirit are likewise being strenuously tested." Jim winced as a satellite image of Tarsonis as it stood now was displayed. The planet now looked positively deformed from the sheer amount of explosive ordinance it had borne witness to with its fall.

"The destruction of Tarsonis was sudden, violent. The message the planet's death carried was as stark as the faces of the few survivors we recovered from the smoking ruins. No longer could we hold the assumption that unseen political figures in smoky backrooms could protect us. The Confederacy is no more. The vaunted oligarchy that proved its dominance time and time again in the Guild Wars has been undone. The first and greatest civilization born of the prison ships has been dismantled. In its ashes, the alien invaders stand poised to make the greatest gains yet of their rampage. We have seen firsthand our homes destroyed by the belligerent protoss. Watched our families twisted and mutilated by the unending Zerg Swarm. And now, the people you thought you could turn to for protection are dead. Their decadent ways and promises of security mean nothing."

"I am here to give you a new promise. One that I assure you bears weight that far surpasses anything the Old Families could have offered."

The images being presented were mostly comprised of Korhal's recent military gains – Confederate ships flying triumphantly after having been repainted with the arm and whip of the Sons.

"No," moaned Jim, causing Sarah to briefly glance toward him before refocusing on the screen. "How the hell can he get away with this?"

"While the zerg and protoss have torn our worlds apart for their own twisted gains, others have stood alongside me in my long war against oppression and corruption. Some vaunted few have traversed the treacherous stars and made friendly contact. They stood proudly alongside the Sons as we contested the brutal ways of the Confederacy. They made numerous sacrifices on Tarsonis, where their fleets bore the brunt of the zerg onslaught, their bravery buying many the precious time they needed to flee. They remain still, wounded yet unyielding, ready and willing to do anything to repulse the invaders that harry us."

"The Confederacy died as it stood; alone, bereft of allies to call on. The Sons have survived, partially through our own strengths, but also through the strengths of the Council, that allied body of aliens that stood against tyranny when they had little to gain from it. I have survived, despite the Armageddon that once desolated my homeworld, despite the murder of my family. And I say here, now, that the time for fear is over. The Terran Dominion is come."

"Here we go…" muttered Kerrigan.

"Let us stand together, the terran race, in the face of this fresh horror. Let us not cower, trembling in the face of the encroaching dark, alone and afraid. Let us not fear the stars we have been thrust into, now that we find ourselves among other galactic inhabitants. Let us go forth, bravely and assuredly into the galactic community."

"The time has come for us to rally under a new banner, one that we know for certain has the strength and the connections to survive what the Confederacy could not. The terran people can no longer turn on one another when we are beset on all sides by those who have no concept of mercy. The time has come to forge ourselves into a nation mightier than any that has graced this sector before, one that capitulates to only a single, almighty throne."

"And from that throne… I shall watch over you."

"There are promises to be kept. There are aliens to whom we owe a most grievous debt of vengeance. And the Citadel and its Council awaits us, the proud terran people. The people of the Dominion. We will recover, my fellow terrans. We will survive. And once this crisis has abated, beaten back by our martial prowess and singular devotion to unity, we will find new prosperity in these now opened stars."

The images finished with a zooming shot of a resplendent skyscraper in Korhal's solely rebuilt city of New Augustgrad, Korhal banners waving proudly in the presumably radioactive breeze. The music was brought to a halt, and the video stopped. Silence followed its conclusion.

"I was initially surprised that he continued to refer to the Council races favorably," said Harper at last. "I was certain that he would have turned upon them immediately following his establishing dominance over what was left of the Confederate military. I must confess, I have never been particularly gifted at predicting that man's actions. But I think I know what he is doing this time. He sent Saren to plant the emitter, did he not?"

"Yes," said Jim through gritted teeth, his knuckles white as he gripped the sides of his seat. "Saren was the one."

"Yes, I suspected," said Harper, returning to his chair and raising one of the glasses. Jim promptly grabbed his own and downed it, relishing the burn. "He didn't want to lose access to potentially lucrative alien markets or open himself to invasion. One of their own soldiers caused the death of a terran planet. He can hold that over them, and twist the truth in any other ways he'd like otherwise. I assume he's kept careful account of that ill-fated meeting in _Hyperion._"

"You're saying you don't think the Council's going to tear him a new one?" snarled Jim. "He's got another thing coming. Why the hell did he set the zerg on them in the first place?"

Harper shook his head, obviously slightly disappointed. "It should be obvious. He offered too much to the Council, deliberately I suspect. The majority of the fighting was done by them. Once the Confederacy was out of the way, he would be forced to carry through on those promises immediately." Harper swirled his glass. "In addition, I suspect his government would be subject to all manner of sanctions and regulations, and would more or less become a puppet state to those aliens. The terran race, its technologies, its people, they would be owned by the Council. Not fully, but just enough that they could have taken all they wanted from us." Harper looked at Sarah. "You're gifted with telepathy. What have you seen of the Citadel in the minds of the aliens? Of their government?"

Sarah shrugged. "Enough. The soldiers were all focused on winning the battles and going home. It was the politicians such as Benezia where I became somewhat wary. While I would not go so far as to start using words like "puppet state," there _was_ some intended exploitation. Mengsk had given them the opportunity. I guess he was planning on stabbing them in the back from the very moment he saw the Councilor's faces."

"Good God," said Jim. "Guess you can't become a politician if you ain't a decent person. Where the hell does that leave the KMC in this? Where the hell does that leave us?"

"The KMC has been told of what transpired on Tarsonis," said Harper. "They will oppose Mengsk in any way they can… or at least, that is what they told me. I rather suspect all they will do is reinforce their borders and simply wait and see whether the Terran Dominion will survive these next few months." Harper downed his glass, winced, and made a gesture towards the third while looking at Kerrigan. Sarah shook her head. "Hmm. If the Dominion does in fact survive… well, I have offered my services."

"Not the Protectorate?" said Jim, a little surprised. "Weren't you killing these guys by the dozen a few years back?"

Harper laughed. "No, not by the dozen. We were – are, assassins and saboteurs. We destroyed materiel, killed leaders. We stole data and kidnapped scientists. That little run on Tarsonis…not our usual forte." Harper's face suddenly looked angry. "Mengsk had much the same notion as you, Jim, that I was some simple killer that sought redemption on Mar Sara. I never sought to kill innocents. My foes, yes, I killed them, sometimes brutally. I have rigged explosives that have levelled entire factories. But our philosophy was that, in changing or removing one vital person or place, the entire sector changed with it." Harper sucked in a deep breath. "So imagine the horror I felt, beyond the horror that was letting so many innocent people die at the hands of the zerg, at the prospect of an entire planet being…removed. The kind of shockwaves that would send. Mar Sara's fall flooded the Sons with allies. Tarsonis's death…" He blew out a large amount of air before shrugging. "Incalculable. It was not only evil, but reckless. Mengsk cannot hope to anticipate what will be borne of this, cannot hope to control the consequences."

"How did you escape?" asked Kerrigan suddenly. "You went missing amidst several alien fleets." Jim looked at her, and she gave a nervous laugh. "What? It's been bothering me."

Harper smiled and clasped his hands together, elbows resting atop his desk. "You may have noticed that during Cerberus Squadron's rather dramatic entrance, that _Undertaker_ features a cloaking device. To my knowledge, it is the only battlecruiser that ever has. Cerberus Squadron was essentially sitting on the sidelines since the debacle at Mar Sara – their faith in the Confederacy was shaken, and their former leader was hitting them up for favors and suggesting they defect." Harper suddenly looked very tired. "I suppose I should be thankful they were so cautious. They had been following close by for ease of communication, as well as the ability to move in quickly and either reinforce or attack Mengsk's fleets at a moment's hesitation. I sent a message simply saying that it was time for me to leave, and then gave a few coordinates."

Harper straightened in his seat, suddenly looking proud of himself. "I took a space suit from storage, an easy feat given my clearance, and flushed myself out of the storage airlock, the one normally reserved for ejecting trash. _Undertaker_ then towed me in, cloaked."

Jim chuckled. Harper gave him an approving nod.

"We didn't stay, however, and trying to eliminate _Hyperion_ in a suicide attack was too risky. Petrohvsky and I tried to contact Confederate High Command, but were rebuffed. They refused to believe we were on their side; they knew Cerberus had been leaking information. Tarsonis was doomed." Harper sighed. "When the fighting started, we snuck through and retrieved the families of the crew present. I hope you do not find that selfish, Mr. Raynor."

"No," said Jim. "You made the best of what you could. How'd you come around to pick me up?"

"Petrohvsky was on the fence regarding your evacuation," said Harper. "Fortunately, we had tapped into your comms. Your declaration of wishing to stay behind at the cost of your life is what saved you. He wondered how we could have overlooked someone such as yourself while looking for recruits way back when, on the onset of the Guild Wars."

"Huh," said Jim. "Nice to see a good deed doesn't always go unnoticed, I guess. Thank you. For me… and Kerrigan. Everybody."

"Yes," said Kerrigan. "I'm not surprised too often, Mr. Harper, but you've managed it a few times now. What's your next move?"

"Recruitment," said Harper. "Haggling. We need funding. We need people. The Confederacy is dead, but Cerberus lives on. We will be the specter that haunts the Dominion, and if necessary, their new alien allies. Tarsonis cannot be forgotten. It cannot be forgiven. It will be recognized, and those responsible will be brought to justice. Those who seek to obfuscate the truth will be destroyed by it." Harper's eyes were alight with a fire Jim had never seen before, and his voice was all quiet urgency. "The Dominion will fall. Mengsk will die. And if those aliens stand with him, then they too will burn. Every action has an equal and opposed reaction. Killing a planet full of people… that's a lot of action. Cerberus will be the reaction."

Jim looked to Sarah, whose face betrayed not a hint of emotion. Her nose twitched once.

"You sound a bit like Arcturus," said Kerrigan calmly. "He, too, sought justice for a dead planet."

Harper laughed again, but this time there was no humor in it. His eyes _burned_ and he stared at Kerrigan with such intensity that Jim shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

"A bold statement," he said clasping his hands again, his voice low. "But I am not using the Fall of Tarsonis as some flimsy pretext for trying to take control of the Koprulu Sector on some… psychopathic whim. No. My actions and intentions have always been… pure. Perhaps past the point of reason, some might say. But no. Once this is done…" Harper shrugged, grinned suddenly. "I suppose I shall become a Magistrate again." _Ugh…s uddenly I've got a bad feeling about what this guy plans on doing. And I don't think _anyone_ is going to be able to talk him out of what he's planning. _

"You had a question for us," said Kerrigan, a little loudly. "What was it?"

"I suppose the word, "offer" might have been more appropriate," said Harper, grin vanishing, suddenly all business. "The two of you, as well as the people who have followed you, have proven yourselves both enormously capable and strong of character. You carried yourselves into the maw of hell that was Tarsonis, and saved countless people. No one asked it of you." Harper looked to Jim. "I always knew you were a man of honor, Jim, a man of action. But I hesitated to call you a hero. Now I will, proudly, you as well, Kerrigan. And I say that we can use heroes such as yourselves. Cerberus needs people, exceptional people." He proffered a hand, leaving Jim and Kerrigan to stare at it. _Huh. Hero. Coming from him, I guess that means something, maybe._ The light in Harper's eyes discomfited Jim. _Reminds me of a few religious types back on Mar Sara, folks that didn't like the Confederacy's open stance regardin' allowing faith. Same fire burned there. True belief can spur a man to do all kinds of things… not all of them savory._

_And a man of faith is not easily shaken from his beliefs._

Kerrigan looked to Jim, eyebrow raised. Jim shook his head, then shrugged.

"I don't know, man," said Jim, letting the tiredness creep into his voice. "I've seen a lot of fighting. Don't have a home to go back to. And I ain't certain I'm gonna end up approvin' what you're planning."

Harper's hand retreated, but his face became passive. Jim could tell the man was thinking, but as to what he was thinking was anyone's guess.

"The offer will remain open," said Harper after a few moments. "Indefinitely. We've been through so much together, us three. I trust that, come what may, you will do the right thing. If there is anything you need help with, let me know. And if you ever change your minds…"

"We didn't exactly say no," said Kerrigan, sounding a little surprised. "We could still-"

"You _thought_ no," said Harper. "I could see it. And frankly, there is still much time, dead time, in which Cerberus must gather strength. If we must part, so be it. There is not much to ask of you right now in any case. I only ask that you stay safe, spread the word of Tarsonis where you can, and oppose Mengsk wherever you are able." He smiled warmly, stood, shook the hand of the both of them. "_Undertaker_ will remain here for another two days. If you need help finding probable safe havens, let me know. The Dominion isn't looking for us yet."

With that, they left, Jim wondering just what the hell was going through Harper's head in those moments. _Seems emphatically reasonable one moment, a seething zealot the next. Suppose that must have made him a good operative._

As they left _Undertaker's _docking tube, Kerrigan turned to Jim, stopping him just out of earshot of the marines.

"I think it would be best if we left, tomorrow," said Kerrigan. "I don't think Harper is… quite as like Mengsk as we fear, but I think it's clear that to him, there is only black and white. People who stand with him, and people who stand against. I think he believes that, given time, we will inevitably side with him."

"It ain't out of the question," said Jim. "Least he gave us a choice."

"I'm not out to become a monster by fighting them," said Kerrigan shortly. "And Harper, I don't think he defines "monster" the same way most people do."

"He did outright call himself an assassin," said Jim, rubbing his chin, and then his forehead. "Hell, I don't know. I need sleep. Think you can help?" Kerrigan raised an eyebrow. "You know. Touch my head, I wake up eight hours later."

"That," said Kerrigan, "I am okay with."

Jim's head was pounding, and he was more than happy to follow Kerrigan without thinking through the halls of Icarus-8, not bothering to look around, just wrapped up in images and remembered sensations. _Cities burning. Cool lips on my forehead. Harper's eyes, man._

Eight hours later, Jim woke up in his bed, still fully clothed. Groggy, and feeling rather disgusting, he stretched, arose, and took a lengthy bathroom break. When he finally emerged, shirtless, it was to hear knocking on the door. Jim shrugged, opened the door without bothering to redress at all.

Matt stood on the other side, and raised his eyebrows at the sight of a shirtless Jim.

"What, Matt?" said Jim, folding his arms. "You like guys now, and it's confusing you?"

"Wha- no. No!" sputtered Matt. "I, uh, hope I'm not interrupting. There's a man looking for you." Matt wrinkled his nose. "I think he's some kind of mercenary leader. Just said he wanted to see the captain of this vessel."

"That's you, Matt," said Jim bluntly. "Captains generally know how to fly the damn ship they're on. I don't."

"While that may be true," said Matt, straightening and trying to look dignified, "that is generally only a small part of captaincy. And going by rank-"

"Alright, Matt," said Jim chuckling. "You don't like mercenaries, I can tell. Send him in."

"Yes sir," said Matt, saluting. "And… thank you, sir."

Matt shut the door, leaving Jim to quickly dress. _Might have recognized the ship, but doesn't know who's in it. Wonder who this is._

The mercenary did not bother to knock, instead opening the doors in and walking with a swagger. His face was scarred up, and his arms were covered in thick tattoos. He wore basic combat armor, orange in color, and a large pistol was on his hip.

"While I'll be goddamned," said the man in a hoarse voice. "You stole the goddamn Confederate flagship. You could sell this thing for a bloody fortune."

"Yeah, I've been told that," said Jim, standing from the bed and folding his arms. "Who the hell are you?"

"Eh? Ah. Zaeed Massani." The man strode over, offered a hand. Jim shook it gently, only to have his hand crushed in a vicelike grip. "Founder of the Blue Suns, KMC-based mercenary company. Stopped in to refuel, saw a pair of fucking ridiculous warships. _Undertaker_ I haven't a goddamned clue about, but you'd have to be blind to not recognize _Norad II_." He released his grip, and Jim flexed his hand, feeling stabs of pain. "How'd you snag it? Where's Duke?"

"Pissed off, somewhere," said Jim, prompting a harsh laugh from Massani. "It's Jim Raynor, by the way. Not… currently affiliated with anyone. Any reason you decided to come aboard?"

"A reason? Course I got a bloody reason," said Zaeed, sounding a little offended. "You imagine the kind of piracy you could pull with this thing? I figured if someone nicked it, they'd have to be some of the hardest sons of bitches in space, and more than interested in that kind of business. I was wondering if-"

"Offering me a place in the Blue Suns?" said Jim, prompting a jagged smile and a nod from Massani. "Funny. Lot of people trying to hire me all of a sudden."

"When you have a ship like this," said Zaeed, brandishing an arm around Jim's quarters, "it stands to goddamn reason. The firepower on this thing is outrageous! The hull plating isn't as thick as I would have thought, but you have to skimp somewhere. Can see why the Combine lost the Guild Wars."

"While I appreciate the offer, Mr. Massani," said Jim, "I can't say I'm interested at this time. Never looked kindly on mercenary work."

Zaeed shrugged. "If you say so. But if you're starting some kind of rebel uprising with this thing, feel free to hire us. Plenty of action in the Sector these days, and the Blue Suns are always happy to be in the thick of it." Zaeed gave Jim a rough nod, and then left the cabin (and hopefully Jim's life) as swiftly as he had entered it. Jim furrowed his brow, and then decided to move to the bridge and tell Matt not to let anyone they didn't know aboard. _Waste of my damn time. _It was to be expected to some extent, though. The KMC was notorious for being rife with people like Zaeed Massani.

Jim found Matt and Kerrigan waiting for him. Kerrigan had dark shadows under her eyes, and the look she gave Jim was haunted.

"Darlin'," said Jim, "forgive me, but you look awful. Having trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah," said Sarah, her blotchy complexion turning a little red. She moved a strand of hair out of her eye. "Looks obvious, I guess. Been having the same dream the last five nights now, getting steadily more intense. Didn't think it was anything important but…" She looked at Jim. "How was our guest?"

"The mercenary was… mercenary," said Jim, not sure how else to put it. "Got another job offer. Didn't feel like taking up piracy or becoming a soldier for hire. We moved on with our lives. What's this about a dream?"

"I think it's a call for help," said Sarah, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain. "Psionic. It's coming from Char, I think. People trapped by zerg. It feels… familiar."

"Char isn't far from here, in the relative sense," said Matt, standing stiff in his disheveled pilot's uniform. "Moreover, it's on the way to Umoja, if you're interested in my plan."

"Interested enough to want to know what it is," said Jim. "Spill it."

"Three major stops," said Matt. "I want to hit Tarsonis, to drop off our surviving turians and asari back to their fleet, then jump to Char to at least check it out… then Umoja. To tell them what happened." Matt looked to Jim, eyes crinkled, mouth curling. "I listened to that _bastard's _speech, sir. People deserve to know the truth. And while the Combine I would trust about as far as I would throw them, the Umojans are a different kind. If we get there before whatever ambassador Mengsk sends does, it could make a difference."

Jim nodded, slowly at first, then picking up speed. "Yeah. Yeah, that works. At least, better than ending up as some kind of Morian sponsored terrorist or a pirate." He looked to Sarah. "Sound good to you, darlin'? Think it could make those messages go away, at least?"

"Worth a shot," said Sarah, sounding a little pained. "Would definitely like to try." She looked up at Matt. "Think you can make those jumps before either Mengsk or the zerg tear us a new one?"

"_Norad II _is a hell of a ship," said Matt, slapping a nearby support pillar with glee. "You ask me to dance, I can make it so. So… when do you want us to head out?"

Jim thought about it. _Gotta say goodbye to Harper, tell those poor Council troops what's going on…that's about it._

"I'll let you know," said Jim. "Got a few things to take care of. I'll be back in about half an hour." Jim nodded to the pair of them, and then took the turbolift to the docking tube. His trip to _Undertaker_ was uneventful, though he did note the sudden appearance of numerous gruff-looking men and women, many of whom sported a blue tattoo on their necks and arms. _Wonder how often people like them pay this place a visit? Or how often it gets robbed?_

This time, the ghost that had greeted Kerrigan and Jim when they had originally boarded the ship was waiting at the entrance, a rifle cradled in his arms. He smiled brightly at Jim as he approached, offering a small bow.

"A good day to you once more, Captain," said the ghost. "I offer my most sincere apologies, but Mr. Harper is not available right now. If you have chosen to go your separate way, he told me to know that, should you choose to ever return to him, all you need do is come back here and tell the station manager. Or, perhaps…?"

"We're headin' out," said Jim, a little apologetically. "Thank you for savin' us, but we got our own way to go. Tell Jack I wish him all the best, and not to hurt anyone that don't need hurtin'. Think you can do that?"

"I think I can manage that, yes," said the ghost, nodding as his smile broadened further. "Our best wishes go with you, Captain. Know that Cerberus will always stand ready." He extended a hand, which Jim took.

"Until we meet again, Mr…?" Jim said.

"Duran," said the ghost, retracting his hand. "My name is Duran."


	29. The Correct War

**Tassadar**

In the last few days, Tassadar's mind had often drifted back to Aiur, his times spent meditating and hunting upon its surface. At this time, it would be high summer. The heat would be stifling, and both spores and pollen would hang heavy in the air. The jungles would teem with life, brightly-colored akakios birds would be jumping from tree to tree while the bengalaas prowled below. It would be damp, heavy, and joyous.

On Char, the air was boiling. It was choked with ash and smoke rather than spores and pollen, and the only creatures mating and prowling were the hideous zerg. The hunts that Tassadar had participated in here had not been celebrations of physical prowess, but rather a bitter feud that lead to the zerg going berserk and ruining a quarter of their own planet. When Tassadar stepped into the soil of Aiur, it was rich-smelling, and his foot would sink slightly at in the damp earth. Here, it was hard and cracked. And it _burned._

Tassadar sat upon this earth, his plasma shield protecting his frame from the bulk of the searing earth's influence. His hands were pressed to his temples in quiet concentration while his legs remained perfectly folded. His back was straight, and his eyes were pressed shut. He was utterly focused on the same images, the same words.

_Zerg. Char. Running. Help. _

Tassadar could not call for his Khalai brethren, not when the Overmind still hunted them, still waited for some sign of the Golden Armada. He knew this because Zeratul had confirmed as such.

"Clouds of scourge await them," Zeratul had said when Tassadar had suggested immediate evacuation at the hands of his brothers-in-arms. "The zerg have been ready for protoss retaliation ever since you first landed on Chau Sara. Elsewhere, their lines are weak. Not here. Not even with their losses."

And their losses had been mighty. The rampaging zerg brood that formerly belonged to Zasz had raged day and night until they were put down. Their little band had been miles away from the outermost skirmishes, but the racket had been tremendous. Zasz's brood _screamed_ as they fought and died, and when Ulrezaj tentatively went out to gaze upon the battlefields, he had come back shaken.

"Even at the height of the Aeon of Strife, we never tore into one another with such ferocity," said he, his eyes now distant. "Nor in such numbers. I shudder to think what should happen if the Overmind dies."

"It is impossible to know for certain," Zeratul had said back, sounding pained. "A Cerebrate is but a servant. Their level of control cannot be the same. Perhaps, with Its death, they will be rendered dormant."

The fighting raged for four days after Zasz's death. The silence afterward should have been reassuring, but it instead unnerved them; the zerg were now resuming their hunt for their band. It was then that Tassadar had suggested that he seek out a different sort of help.

"My mind glanced another that was blessed with psionic might," said he. "Astonishingly, the mind was terran. A being known as Kerrigan. And she was even benevolent, from what I can sense. Terrans lack any psionic matrix or racial gestalt, as well..."

"If you think those primitive planet defilers have the power to match the zerg here," Selak had said, derisive, "then it seems the protoss have been rendered obsolete, surpassed by their inferiors. Such a thing cannot be done."

"Their warp drives lack finesse," Tassadar, "but cannot be locked down in the same manner as ours. They are as detached from their technology as they are from each other. In their disunity, therein lies both their greatest strength and their greatest failing. The Overmind will have little warning… and I think you would be surprised at the capability of their ships."

Zeratul had looked to Tassadar with his head tilted.

"I am impressed," Zeratul had said at last. "Even I had dismissed the terrans to a certain extent, though I was unaware of the Kerrigan. We would need someone used to communicating over long distances, however. It is fortunate that we have with us a High Templar, is it not?"

Tassadar, pleased to have once again demonstrated a strength of the Khala, had set to work immediately. He did not lack for light, and his plasma shields kept the worst of the heat at bay. So he sat, thinking, focusing on images. Wherever Kerrigan was, he knew the images and words would be faint, disjointed, and would likely only reach the terran on an instinctual level. But they would reach her. He was sure of it.

Another shock had followed a day after Tassadar had begun his psionic broadcast, and it was a shock that rent his hearts in two. The zerg, dormant since the destruction of their berserk brood, suddenly took flight. Tassadar was stirred from his meditation as he fell in line with the Nerazim, watching as countless dark forms drifted into the sky in all directions.

"Aiur," said Tassadar, knowing that grief was breaking the message up slightly. "They go to war."

"No," said Zeratul, watching intently as their enemies climbed into the heavens on their cursed wings. "Not while we still live, while we still walk these ashes. They have a different destination. An important one, it would seem."

Tassadar wanted to believe Zeratul desperately, but a deep pit of blue had settled within him – a heavy feeling that weighed his steps down and disrupted his focus as he returned to his message. _I cannot even reach out. They could reach the planet, my home, and slaughter all who walk on it, and I would not even know._

It could not be helped. Tassadar had to acknowledge his own inability to change the situation as it was, and focus on what he could do. _Draw Kerrigan here. And… secure a rescue._

Tassadar had some pride left, even through the Nerazim training, and that pride was not happy at having to call out for the _terrans,_ of all people, to help. _Look at me. An Executor of the protoss, screaming for help for those who barely earn the title of "civilized." Hmm. I must try to remember the ashes of their settlement. They have waged war on the zerg as well, have lost more than we have. I must try to maintain perspective._

Tassadar heard the light footfalls of a Dark Templar behind him. He opened his eyes and lowered his arms, turning to face his visitor.

Zeratul had been quieter since his mind had melded with the Overmind's. He had often departed from the little camp they had set up to take up a vantage point and stare in the direction of Zasz's former lair. His demeanor was stiffer now, and he held himself lower to the ground than before. _There are some things even the protoss should not bear witness to, it seems._

"I fear I have made a grave error, Executor," said Zeratul, his voice shaken. "We are trapped here. Hidden yes, but trapped. For many days you have called for help, and for many days we have waited. I suspect I have brought my hunters here only to be slain at the hands of the zerg." He bowed his head. "And I have led the zerg to the homeland I swore to protect, though I never looked upon its shining waters."

"No," said Tassadar, rising to his feet and feeling the anger clawing through his chest. "I will not hear doubt from you. Not here. Not now. Not from you, you who have dealt the zerg the greatest and only lasting wound, you who revealed the enemy's weakness and then struck there with force." With heavy tread, Tassadar strode forward and planted a hand on Zeratul's shoulder. "Even if that be true, if we are to meet our ends on this blasted world, what does it matter? We are already victorious. We are a lowly warband pitted against the might of the Zerg Swarm, and we did not shame ourselves. Our sacrifices would not be meaningless. And Aiur is not defenseless."

Zeratul stared into Tassadar's eyes for a few moments, unblinking. Then he straightened his slumped posture, planted his own hand on Tassadar's shoulder.

"En taro Adun, Tassadar," he said, sounding prouder than he ever had before. "I sought to teach you, and knew I would learn in return. But I did not think that you would offer me courage in a darker moment. Still, I fear that our deaths lie close, and such a thing is hard to break to the young."

Far above, Tassadar felt a lurch. A small beam of heat seemed to be shot into his brain, and he smiled at the warmth.

"No, brave Prelate," said Tassadar. "We live on. They are here."

Zeratul paused for a moment. Then his eyes lit up, and he lifted his arms and gazed into the heavens.

"Contact them, Executor," said Zeratul. "I will ready my brothers for their exodus. We tired of these wastes long ago, as I am sure you understand. Quickly, before the zerg find them!"

Tassadar adopted his sitting position once more, his mind now scanning for much closer recipients for his message. His questing mind found first, only zerg and the vast emptiness. Then it found –

_Christ, that planet's infested. Hope we didn't make a mistake in comin' here. All on the advice of a telepath. At least the drop on Tarsonis went smooth; even looked like Victus and his boys were still holed up there, patchin' up the damage and the few ships left. It was risky, but at least it weren't on a damn whim. Dammit, she can hear all this. Darlin', how long we gotta stay here?_

Other voices joined in. None of them seemed to understand why they were on Char, and all of them were very upset at some being known as Mengsk. Tassadar did not have time to delve further, however, seeking out the mind of the one he could not read easily, and then channeling his energies towards the nearest communications device that he could.

In his mind's eye, there was static for a few moments. Then, with a sharp hiss, he looked into the interior of the terran vessel, _Norad II._

Faces, some a pale pink, a few of darker shades, stared back at the face that had appeared on their screens. A terran female screamed, irritating Tassadar.

"Silence!" he bellowed, before swiftly realizing that this was likely undiplomatic. "Ah. My apologies. I am Executor Tassadar of the Protoss Expeditionary Fleet. Sarah Kerrigan, I drew you here. Fear me not, for I bear you no harm. I ask for your assistance."

A terran female with lengthy red hair stepped forward. She had discarded her armor for some kind of baggy attire, something Tassadar disapproved of immensely. _The suit lends strength and enhances mobility. And she will need such for a mission on Char!_

"A protoss, calling out for help?" asked Kerrigan, stepping close to the screen with a smirk on her red mouth. Tassadar fixed his gaze on her eyes, which shone with a bright shade of green. "I'm no expert, but you didn't seem the type to ask for anyone's help when I spoke to you back on _Momentum_, Tassadar."

"The zerg are a grave threat," said Tassadar urgently. "I agree, I possessed a hubris most sickening. But this isn't the time. The zerg have been weakened by recent conflicts, but this is their main nest. We require extraction."

"Yeah?" said a deeper voice. A terran male strode forward, his arms adorned with vibrant injected images. He had little hair on his head, but much on his face. When Tassadar searched his mind, feeling much anger. "Where the hell have you guys been? There were plenty of folks on Tarsonis that could've used extraction from the zerg. I was hopin' you bastards would show up and at least give 'em somethin' else to eat. You claimed all you wanted to do was kill these things, but you never showed. Where the hell were you?"

"Here," said Tassadar calmly. "Trapped. As you will be, unless you leave this place quickly. I only beseech – no, beg you for your assistance. I know not why my brethren have ceased their fight against the Zerg Swarm, but as their Executor, I can pledge their blades to your cause. We have little time, James Raynor!"

"James?" said a younger terran, looking a little confused. _Ah. The helmsman. Matthew Horner._ "Sir, we've seen the firepower the protoss have. If we could befriend them, bring them to bear against Mengsk-"

Kerrigan looked to Matthew, then back to Tassadar.

"Send me what I need to know," she said, her voice cool. "Try not to cook my brain. It's fast, and you won't be able to lie."

James Raynor grabbed Kerrigan by the arm, and Tassadar felt his protectiveness. _Stubborn. Weary. Not always bad qualities to have._

"Darlin', you sure about this?" said Jim. "I ain't about to lose you to some protoss bullshit on top of everything else."

"I don't think that's going to happen, Jim," said Kerrigan, removing his arm and squeezing it slightly. "I can take care of myself. But… thank you." She looked back to him, all green defiance. "Do it."

Tassadar reached out and felt Kerrigan's mind, probing it for the spaces she was leaving empty. It felt small yet possessed of great capability – like a reaver's scarab bound for the enemy. Their minds met.

Tassadar thought that Kerrigan would choose to meet in simple blackness, a place where they would not be distracted by the chosen surroundings. He was therefore quite surprised when he found himself in the gray steel of some terran structure. All around him were kinetic terran weapons and ammunition, stacked high among crates loaded with cans of meat. In each corner of the structure were small windows into the open, through which Tassadar could see orange dust and smoking earth.

"A bunker on Tarsonis," said Kerrigan from behind him. Tassadar turned and found the terran sitting on a green cot, barely held off of the ground by small metal supports. "It had been abandoned when I got here, but there was one man, very sick. He had taken himself out of his CMC suit and laid himself down here." Her face contorted. "Infested. He asked me to kill him. Jim's not the only one who was wondering where the hell you were, _Executor_."

Tassadar looked down at the small terran, feeling the anger pulse through the surroundings that were composed of only her mind. He felt his own chest tighten.

"I will tell you all that you want to know," said Tassadar. "We could spend what would feel to us as a year here, and it would scarcely be a second."

"Protoss psionics," spat Kerrigan. "We could've used that here. Isn't that what you promised? All you wanted to do was fight the zerg. They destroyed the most populated terran world in the Sector. They attack the Council. But the only sign of the protoss presence is those bastards on Chau Sara, choking our allies' supply lines and reinforcements. Why?"

_Much has changed._ _I have been experiencing a revelation of the spirit on Char, while all the while no one has taken up my duties. Someone will answer for this._

"I have been trapped on Char, young Kerrigan," said Tassadar. "I have not had a command of my own for many weeks. If the zerg go unmolested, then the only responsibility I can lay claim to is the foolishness that landed me on Char in the first place. On behalf of the Khalai, I apologize." Tassadar let the psi blade on his left arm ignite, and then plunged it into the floor of the bunker before Kerrigan. The concrete bubbled and burned. "I would seek to make amends through the use of my own body, and the bodies of my fellow Khalai."

He heard Kerrigan snort. "You're a good deal more humble than I remember," she said, placing a hand on Tassadar's head, then pulling him up to his feet. She let go once his own height passed hers. "But we're not exactly set on fighting zerg right now, ourselves. We-"

"You terrans are fixated on warring amongst your own," said Tassadar. "The zerg harry your people, and your people's allies, and yet I sense you wish to do further violence against this "Mengsk." What purpose does that serve?"

"That "Mengsk,"" said Kerrigan angrily, her face turning crimson, "called the zerg to Tarsonis. He set those monsters on his own people, and then crowned himself emperor on a lie. Don't you tell me that isn't consequential, that it isn't without good reason!"

Tassadar shook his head. _Such rage. She put trust in this "Mengsk," and he betrays it without hesitation. I felt it in James Raynor and Matthew Horner as well. A justifiable rage, a righteous one. But not an important one._

"It is the wrong battle you throw yourselves into," said Tassadar, trying not to sound condescending, something he found disturbingly difficult. "The zerg necessitated the destruction of Mar Sara. They are the ones who attack the Council, who destroyed Tarsonis. A heret- no, a brother of mine saw into the Overmind. There will be no reprieve. There will be no escape. Even as you cast this "emperor" of yours down, more worlds will burn. You will be guilty of the same supposed negligence of the protoss." That last line stung Tassadar as he said it, hoping desperately that the absence of the Expeditionary Fleet in zerg-struck worlds was with good reason. Kerrigan stared up at him, unblinking. "If my people are indeed guilty of delay, do not seek to emulate us. I apologize if we have failed you.

There was a lengthy silence. Tassadar heard the wind whistling through the bunker's windows as Kerrigan stared at him, red mouth portions pursed together, teeth grinding.

"The wrong battle," said Kerrigan without emotion, unblinking. "Hell. I don't hate the zerg like Mengsk. I never felt anything towards them, other than fear. They just felt like… nature, I guess. Some natural disaster, wild animals. But their body count is higher than anyone else's, isn't it?" She sighed. "Even Mengsk. And if we take them out, he'll never be able to use them again." She stood from the bed, making its springs squeak. "How many of you are down there?"

"Just seven," said Tassadar, his hearts suddenly pumping faster as he internally rejoiced. "Including myself. I will send you the location. It's free of zerg, for now."

Kerrigan nodded, her tongue slipping out of her mouth briefly to coat the red anterior.

"Okay," she said. "It's going to be tight. And if I end up regretting this, I'll kill you myself."

"Such fire!" said Tassadar. "En taro Adun, brave Kerrigan. You will not regret this course of action. I swear it on the Khala, I swear it on the homeworld I would do anything to protect, and I swear it upon all that we have lost. I look forward to walking among your peoples." _Not truly, but Kerrigan is at least not intolerable company._

Tassadar cracked his eyes open on the surface of Char. The Nerazim were at the camp, swiftly readying themselves for extraction; he could feel them talking hurriedly amongst themselves, moving swiftly through the small valley they had planted themselves in.

Tassadar rose, legs aching slightly as he did. The fiery horizon of Char had dimmed not at all, and he knew that danger lurked on every side, yet he cared not. _Time to leave this place, and discover what has befallen my brethren elsewhere._

Tassadar found Zeratul standing atop the perch he had claimed in recent days, a small hill on the southern lip of the valley, many zerg bones decorating its surface.

"They come," he said as Tassadar reached the top. "Blessed Tassadar, you have saved us."

"It is only fitting and right," said Tassadar, "you saved me by allowing me entry to Char. Now I am your salvation, providing the exit."

"The Khala has its merits," said Zeratul, eyes gleaming. "Perhaps this will sway Selak or Ulrezaj. It is unlikely, but nevertheless…"

A dark shape had appeared amidst the ash clouds that slunk through the skies of accursed Char, becoming ever closer. The other Dark Templar emerged from the valley, letting forth cries of relief. _A rare thing indeed. It seems that even the Nerazim, too, become loud when rejoicing._

The outline of the ship became visible, its engines casting a blue flame beneath it. Tassadar focused, saw a small hatch opening on the neck of the ship, close to its wide front.

"Stand close!" bellowed Tassadar, sprinting down the hill and standing as close to the Dark Templar as close by as he could, Zeratul just behind.

_We are ready, brave terrans. You will not regret this._

The ship was suddenly enormous in their eyes, its vast exhaust making the land scream as it tore through the air. It slowed above them, dull clicks reverberating through the searing atmosphere as spotlights turned on and began to crisscross the ground, focusing on the huddled protoss.

"Extraction field green!" yelled a terran voice through some machine sound amplifier. "Stand still!"

With a lurch, the protoss were lifted as one. To Tassadar's embarrassment, it was not a graceful climb – both he and Zeratul were upended on the way up, and promptly landed on their backs. When he stood once more, it was to find a small terran woman blowing a pink bubble out of her mouth. It popped and she chewed until it returned from whence it came. _This terran is decidedly unimpressed._

"Protoss are in," she said, holding a hand to her ear. Tassadar couldn't hear what was said back, but read her mind and saw it clear enough.

"The zerg approach, Nerazim," Tassadar declared, quickly finding the location of the bridge in the terran's mind. "I go to Kerrigan, that I might assist in their escape!"

As Tassadar hurried out, head lowered so that the door frame did not hinder him, he heard the terran lady reporting further.

"Protoss headed to the bridge. Seemed awfully dramatic."

Tassadar ignored the exclamations of fear and wonder as he either dashed or edged his way past the terran crew, making his way to the nexus of their operation. When he spared a thought for the nature of the corridors he traversed, it was scathing.

_These ships are clumsily made. Where is the pride in having come so far as a species? Every ship should be a work of art unto itself, an expression of the progress of your people. This is simply a warship._

The bridge, if Tassadar could call it that, was bursting with terran activity as Tassadar entered it. Several individuals in rumpled uniforms were moving from manned console to manned console, bellowing orders and directing attack patterns.

Kerrigan and Jim watched Tassadar approach, but it was not they that Tassadar wanted. He turned on his heel and approached Matt Horner, whose own shouted orders quieted as Tassadar towered over him.

"Focus your batteries on the small scourge, Captain Matthew!" cried Tassadar. "The mutalisk moves with a great fury, but its glave wurms cannot penetrate the heavier armors. The scourge bear a far more fearsome payload."

Matt looked up at Tassadar, mouth open, his initial thoughts of trying to enforce chain of command on his guest quickly stifled. His hand began making a frantic motion towards what Tassadar guessed was an officer that was waiting for new orders.

"Focus aftmost ATA batteries on the smaller approaching fliers!" yelled the helmsman. "Do NOT let them connect!" He stared up into Tassadar's eyes, a fierce glint inside them. "We're risking our ship and our lives for you. Anything you can do to make this easier?"

To Tassadar's surprise, Matthew Horner's mind was composed, his thought focused entirely on deflecting the approaching hosts of zerg. He was in his element now, and would not be further intimidated.

"I can and will of course aid you," said Tassadar, stepping gingerly over to the closest viewport and staring at the swiftly vanishing sight of Char's atmosphere. Many winged forms closed in from all sides. _Overmind, you make enemies of all the races of the galaxy that face Your children. This is how we escape your clutches._

_Witness our combined might!_

Tassadar let the energy build, felt the tender heat curling through his arms. He remembered the sight of terrans infested by these creatures, of his warriors lost to their foul and unnatural biology, of Kerrigan's bunker. Electricity was building up in the room, much to the alarm of a handful of terrans, and Tassadar sensed the hair of several standing up on end at his display.

_Die by the hundreds, wretched beasts!_ Tassadar pushed the energy from his body, towards the heat and fury of the zerg as they closed the distance. From nothing sprang a sudden storm – though perhaps storm would not do it justice. Heat and lightning sparked and flew from the point of the energy's entry, many times hotter than the lava beds of Char, sparking and hissing in the gloomy emptiness of space.

Zerg already in the storm blackened and died, their mangled and charred corpses cast smoking through the void. Those that were close and could not change their paths in time met the same fate, their wings and skin flayed by the potent energies Tassadar had unleashed.

"Huh," said the voice of James Raynor from behind Tassadar. "So that's what the protoss can do. Figure you could manage anything like that, darlin'?"

"No," said Kerrigan, stepping forward to Tassadar's right, looking through the window. Many strands of red hair stuck from her small head, almost vertical. "Not with my neural suppressors, at least. Even if I could, I'm not sure I could control that kind of energy."

Tassadar turned to face James. His arms were folded, and he was looking Tassadar up and down with interest.

"You're a tall bunch of bastards," he said, sounding a little impressed. "No mouths... no trouble hearing you, though. Twice, man. Once on Mar Sara, tellin' us to clear out, then again once we'd been evacuated." He shook his head slightly, and his thoughts reflected quiet amusement and no small amount of smugness. "Somehow, never figured I'd be pullin' you out of the fire. Zerg take you by surprise?"

"Yes," said Tassadar, not relishing James' moment of triumph. "We will speak of this later. Tell your helmsman to bear for Chau Sara."

James cocked his head, and Tassadar read his mind and found him about to make a retort – but Kerrigan had stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. When he looked at her, his expression went from hard lines to crinkles. _He trusts her. And she trusts me. This will work._

"Horner!" yelled Kerrigan, staring at Tassadar with an intent gaze that promised Tassadar swift retribution of this proved to be a mistake. "Jump for Chau Sara. New destination."

"Ma'am?!" came the cry of Matthew back. But Tassadar sensed this was not a genuine question of authority, but rather a simple indication of alarm. _These terrans lack some amount of discipline, but at least follow a chain of command._

Tassadar reached for Matthew, checking for errors in his calculation, all the while sensing the zerg forming a half circle around them, closing quickly.

_Dammit, _thought Matthew. _Coordinates for Umoja were almost set. Chau Sara's just within range – urgh, a jump from here isn't easy. What the hell's on Chau Sara, just more protoss, right? If they can help us make things right, get rid of Mengsk, well…_

A flurry of equations followed, and Tassadar was unpleasantly surprised to find that Horner's grasp of making sense of astronomic data was superior to his own. _He had to specialize in it, whereas I was dedicated to many fields of combat and study. Our own helmsman and pilots would surpass him at any given time, but it is still disorienting. _He could not find any fault with his equations.

_Norad II_ propelled itself through space, and Tassadar could feel the trail of zerg blood and gore it left behind it, and could barely contain his glee. _The Overmind was not given sufficient time to rally. And regardless of the losses experienced throughout the galaxy, the zerg in the Koprulu Sector are being bled by the chaos just as everyone else is._

"Punching it! God help us…" said Matthew. The ship gave an almighty lurch, causing every individual on the bridge, barring Tassadar and Kerrigan, to either lurch in their chair or stumble to keep their footing.

Tassadar looked unto the two foremost terrans he currently owed his lives to.

"En taro Adun, James Raynor and Sarah Kerrigan," he said, bowing his head. "My brethren and I are in a debt most heavy to you. We will repay it however we can. But first, I must make contact with the garrison on Chau Sara. The proceedings will not require your participation."

James openly laughed at this, causing Tassadar to take a step backwards, insulted. The terran finished laughing quickly, jabbed a thick finger at Tassadar.

"Alright, man, look. You got the words that mark you out for bein' properly educated, and frankly you're as scary as hell. But you and yours owe us a few answers, and plenty of blood. You ain't leavin' us out. Same as we didn't leave you out down there. Basic decency. Got it?" James's eyes were narrowed and strong. The mind underneath it was, comparative to Kerrigan, not strong. Tassadar could reach out and crush his fragile being. There would be a brief moment of pain, and then instant darkness – like dimming a lit candle with one of his fingers and one of his thumbs. _But no. Not an honorable death. And his request is reasonable. The terrans can try to keep up, if they wish._

"Very well," said Tassadar, eyeing the door as his Dark Templar brethren strode through it, drawing yet more gasps from the terrans. "I will not stop to explain things to you, however, until it is done. Try to keep up, if you will, but your interjections must be respectful. We are a proud people, and etiquette may only be ignored among close friends."

James looked confused by this, prompting Kerrigan to explain. "Just be polite, Jim. If you start feeling angry, it might be better to keep it to yourself."

"Right," said James, his thoughts betraying slight irritation. But Tassadar did not have time for this just then. He passed the terrans and stood before the Nerazim, bowing his head. Zeratul did the same.

"Prelate," Tassadar said. "We go now to a Templar military encampment. I know not what kind of reaction Praetor Fenix will have to you, but I may be forced to defend both of our honors with my body. If the longstanding bloodlust of my warriors cannot be sated by my words or my blades, I beg you to depart, and rally your people against the zerg. I will go the Khala happily, knowing I did all in my power to protect you."

"You shame us, Executor," said Selak from behind Zeratul, bowing his head as well, drawing a surprised glance from Ulrezaj. Zeratul looked up to Tassadar and simply nodded.

"Adun toridas, my friend," he intoned softly.

The jump completed abruptly, and once again the protoss on the bridge were the only ones who were not unbalanced by _Norad II's_ sudden movement. Free of the Overmind's stifling presence at long last, Tassadar reached out for his brethren, and found the familiar twinkling lights of his brothers in the Khala.

They felt him too, and rejoiced! And then… confusion? _And fear? What is the meaning of this?_

A viewing screen crackled to life at the front of the bridge, causing a terran to tap it with confusion, before promptly yelling as Fenix's face appeared on it.

"Tassadar?!" Fenix thundered, prompting Tassadar to _run_ for the screen. When the Praetor saw his face, he was momentarily speechless. "Tassadar! When I felt your presence, I wondered if perhaps one of my psi appendages had suffered damage in my last battle! You live! By Khas, you have not yet gone to the Khala!"

"Mighty Praetor," said Tassadar, all too aware of the crowd of both terrans and Dark Templar that were forming behind him, out of sight of the Praetor. "I humbly beseech that you take in this terran vessel that I am aboard. I have walked among foes for many weeks, and seen into the heart of the enemy. We have much to discuss."

"Of course, Executor – I mean, my friend," said Fenix, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically worried. "These are troubled times. I, in particular, would welcome your guidance."

The screen died, and then Matthew reported a fresh series of coordinates beamed from a protoss vessel. _All is not well. What has happened? _Tassadar had heard Fenix express fear only a few times. One of them had been when he had remarked upon the nature of the lustful asari, the other two had been related to facing a death the Praetor had deemed of "insufficient worth." _He is as fearless as a Templar can be. What has gone wrong? _

"Fenix," said James from behind Tassadar. "Friend of yours?"

"More than a friend," said Tassadar, turning and making for the nearest exit from the terran cruiser. "We share a brotherhood forged in battle." The Dark Templar followed behind him as the door leading into the turbolift slid open. "Follow, terrans, if you wish. You desired to know more, and I will shield you with my body should they choose to harm you. You are my honored guests." _It grates, to offer aliens such a thing, but they have earned it. Who else could have heard my message and escaped Char? They were uniquely suited to it._

The protoss aboard the lift had to lower their heads to fit, and James and Kerrigan barely fit into a snug corner. Tassadar scarcely noticed. His mind raced trying to determine what could possibly have happened to have caused Fenix fear, and have left his people without the apparent ability to make war on the zerg without him.

"So," said James, panting slightly as he kept up alongside Tassadar's strides. "We're goin' on a protoss ship?"

"Yes," said Tassadar, not turning his head. "You will be among some of the only aliens to have ever walked within one of our mighty carriers. You have well earned the right."

"I've been on a turian ship," said James, sounding nostalgic. "Man. Last month's been... weird."

"Indeed," said Tassadar, thinking back to his education on Char, and his continually developing relationships with people he was raised to hate. He felt out for James's mind, found him thinking of some being named "Saren," and that the docking tube was close by.

When Tassadar reached the carrier's docking tube, the separation between the carrier's design and the battlecruiser's was jarring. The grey steel and exposed wiring of the terran cruiser gave way quickly to the smooth, almost organic flowing metal of the protoss carrier's archaic docking tube, included only for ceremonial purposes in which teleportation was deemed too crude a way to enter a vessel. Tassadar did not pause, returning gladly to a place he would feel completely familiar. He and his entourage were stopped, however, by the emerging form of Fenix and a pair of zealots at the other end of the tube.

The zealots took either side of Fenix, whose gaze fell upon the gathering group before him, eyes flicking first to Tassadar, then the terrans, and finally the Nerazim. There was a pregnant pause.

"Tassadar," said Fenix, sounding more shocked than Tassadar had ever heard him before. "Tassadar, what have you done?! The Conclave declared you a heretic, and I disregarded them to the point of rebellion. Yet here you walk with the Dark Ones? Tassadar – what have you DONE?!"

"Hold, dearest brother!" said Tassadar palms outstretched. "I am not corrupted. These Dark Templar, these esteemed warriors, saved me from my own folly on Char. They have struck a blow against the zerg Overmind, slaying one of Its lieutenants. I beg you – meld with me, and see the truth! Do I feel or sound any different?"

"Strike, Praetor!" urged the zealot to the right of Fenix, his armor clanking as he pointed a clawed finger at Tassadar's face. "Lead the charge against these heathens, and we shall follow! Aldaris speaks it true; it seems we must beg the Conclave's forg-"

"Meld!" bellowed Fenix suddenly, causing all present to shrink back suddenly; even Zeratul was not exempt. Fenix looked back at his entourage, then at the people before him, finally fixing on Tassadar's face. "Meld…" Fenix said, eyes flickering. "Tassadar – I need not such a thing from you." He directed his gaze to the Nerazim, who met his eyes with their own cold intensity. "I welcome thee, rescuers of Tassadar! If it is you I have to thank for his continued survival, then I fear the stars will all flicker and die before I can truly express my gratitude. Be welcome here as friends, honorable Nerazim."

"Fenix-" began the rightmost zealot, only to be silenced by Fenix's palm.

"The Conclave have feared another Aeon of Strife for too long, I have always felt," said Fenix, suddenly calm. "That very fear has brought the conflict they were trying to avoid. I will not fall for the same trap." Fenix looked down at his guests. "En taro Adun, Nerazim. And you, terrans. I suspect you are the ones responsible for Tassadar's return?"

"Yep," came the casual reply of James Raynor. _How succinct. _

"More honorable friends, excellent!" declared Fenix, beckoning all to follow as he entered his ship.

_Fenix, mighty Fenix. Words cannot express how good it is to see you again. How much better it is to see that canniness of yours put to use. All too often you simply give in to your wrath._

If the arrival of protoss aboard a terran vessel had caused an upset, Tassadar and the Nerazim's entrance caused an absolute uproar. Protoss all over directed all manner of questions directly to Tassadar and Fenix's minds, while others directed curses and angry shouts at the guests. Fenix quieted all with a burst of rage through the Khala.

"They are GUESTS!" screamed Fenix. "One of our greatest heroes has been returned to us by the very people you direct your hate toward! Calm yourselves, Templar, lest I vent my considerable fury towards your delicate bones."

"Were they sayin' something?" Tassadar heard James ask Kerrigan from the back of the crowd. "Cause I couldn't hear anything."

The Templar returned to their duties while Fenix proceeded through the golden interior of the ship. _Ah, to walk on a carrier once more._ Consoles bearing intricate designs and graced with ancient symbols were to either sides of the corridors they strode. Many of them were simple historical terminals left for simple study and entertainment, with only a few meant for monitoring systems. The ceiling was high to better accommodate the considerable frames of the protoss, and the terrans looked positively dwarfed in the vessel. And of course, many viewports, heavily reinforced by plasma shielding of course, decorated small alcoves to either side of any given part of the ship, all the better to remind the protoss of the great beauty and majesty of nature's accomplishments, as well as their own.

_Feel like I'm in a damn art museum,_ thought James.

_Ah, but James, why cannot form and function be brought together in a splendid display of creation? One does not have to sacrifice beauty for the sake of lethality. Look at the mighty bengalaas, whose hide is praised, but whose claws are sharp._

The corridor gave way to a swift ramp, either side of which was adorned with glorified images of the Aeon of Strife; it offered both a reminder of what they had to avoid, as well as hope at what they had achieved. _But right now, it offers only a sour reminder of the Conclave's foolishness._

When they arrived at the Captain's quarters, both James and Kerrigan were mentally complaining of pain in their feet. _Ah, I suppose I should have mentioned this could take some time. I should have offered use of a teleport. Too late now, of course._ They passed within, and Tassadar heard Kerrigan gasp, evidently impressed.

The captain of any carrier would always be a Templar of high esteem and power, and that meant more luxuries were afforded. The splendid gold of the carrier gave way to transparency – all around them were the stars, and at the bottom, beneath their feet, stood the planet of Chau Sara, now decorated with several protoss spires.

On either side of the invisible walls were countless glowing silver inscriptions, each a famous quote regarding the khala. In the center sat a small (for a protoss) cushion, the place where Fenix meditated while surrounded by the splendor of the universe.

James's thoughts were only about how exposed this part of the ship was. _It is heavily shielded, ever practical Raynor, and it is not a worthwhile target. It is close to only the crew quarters, no critical systems, and no captain would ever be found here while in hostile territory. We sleep little._

"A fine place for a polite discussion," said Fenix, sitting cross-legged on the pillow, still tall even when no longer standing. "Much has transpired, my friends, and I am not eager to confess I may have made several mistakes."

Tassadar chuckled. He stood before Fenix, while the others had fanned out near the farthest wall, the back of the entrance. _Good. These are matters of the Khalai. _The two of them still made sure their words were heard by the others, however. _Etiquette. It is a shame this will take more time._

"Your Expeditionary Fleet returned here after losing you, Tassadar," said Fenix. "They claimed that you would be along shortly, but you never arrived. We did not feel you pass into the Khala, but dared not return to Char until we received further instruction. We feared the Overmind may have set a trap, with you perhaps as bait."

"A wise move, Praetor Fenix," said Tassadar. "Any Khalai ship that dared approach Char would have been snared as we were. Our overwhelming psionic might is both our greatest strength and weakness."

"Yes, well," said Fenix, sounding unhappy, "a new fleet arrived shortly after this, helmed by the new Executor – Artanis."

"An excellent choice," said Tassadar, delighted his younger friend had finally received the recognition he deserved. _Stood against twenty kalath warriors alone, only at the age of eighty-eight. Feats of honor on the colonies – both a capable scholar and warrior. I shall have to offer my congratulations._ "I told Artanis great things awaited him."

"He has always looked up to you greatly, my friend," said Fenix, sounding more and more unhappy. "Hence why, when he told us that the Conclave had declared you a heretic, he promptly renounced his ties to the Conclave and encouraged us to helm a rebellion against those who would dare defile the name of the protoss's greatest hero."

"He WHAT?" yelled Tassadar, his hearts pounding with alarm.

"They had asked him to gather us and strike at Char," said Fenix quickly, desperately trying to plunge on. "To find and slay you for conspiring with the heretics. Furthermore, they had learned of a clumsy Council threat made by their lizard people, and had urged us to begin burning a few of their worlds. They sense the galaxy has fallen to chaos, and want to capitalize."

"Where is Artanis now?" asked Tassadar slowly, trying to regain his wits. "Where is he?"

"At war," said Fenix bitterly. "It is why we have not struck at the zerg, Tassadar. The Sector's sudden conflict has reopened old wounds between castes, between tribes. We cannot strike at the zerg when locked with a far closer enemy – ourselves."

"Seems like not even the protoss can get their shit together," said James from the back, causing both protoss to stare at him. "Why kill the zerg? They're just bugs. Now, that bastard across the street, _him_ I hate. Him I'll kill."

"The terran is in possession of some rough spun wisdom, Templars," said Zeratul, coming forth from the shadows. "He sees the truth of it. No race is above the old hatreds, and some wounds cannot heal. It seems the Aeon of Strife is come again, and at a time that we cannot afford it."

"The Council made threats?" asked Tassadar, wondering if there were any sane sapients left outside of this solar system.

"One of their fleets approached, hoping to make diplomatic contact," said Fenix. "I could not read the mind of their admiral – the lizard people's thoughts move too quickly to make sense of. We did not deign not to respond, other to arrange our warships in a clearly threatening pattern. The salarians – that was their name, the salarians – made some threat. Something about burying this planet in warships if that's what it took to get a response from "a clearly slow-witted people."" Fenix sounded embarrassed. "You told me to brook no insult to the protoss, Tassadar. I confess, I was blinded by rage. After their battered retreat, I decided to let no further ships through, to prevent further potential accidents. I do not wish to hurt any more of the lesser species – I had disgraced the tenets of the Dae'uhl."

"So," said Kerrigan, "you're the reason the Council forces panicked. A protoss throwing a temper tantrum fed the zerg a planet."

"What does the woman terran say?!" thundered Fenix, leaping to his feet. "She is psionic?! How dare you, feeble child of a distant world! You know all too well how difficult it is to control your powers, and they are but a fraction of the protoss. Do not speak to me of losing control, when it is written upon your face that you are guilty of the same."

"Fenix…" whispered Tassadar. Fenix calmed, and to Tassadar's horror, Kerrigan's face had frozen. Her veins stood stark against her pale skin, and Tassadar caught flashes of old, half-forgotten, intensely _painful_ images. _A mother's head bursting like ripe fruit. A father left a drooling invalid. You have struck a nerve, Praetor. A tender one. Kerrigan hides behind a wall of ice, and now that wall sweats. There is much heat, much anger underneath._

_And pain. The terrans do not fully understand their destiny, and that will be a painful transition. _

"I… apologize, friend of Tassadar," said Fenix, falling to his knees. "Forgive me. We are unaccustomed to dealing with other species. After certain… failings… we prefer to take the role of distant caretakers, not diplomats."

"It shows," said Kerrigan stiffly. She looked at James, gave him a small nod to show it was all okay, even when it wasn't. "Sorry… continue."

"I did let one ship through," said Fenix hesitantly. "It bore no life signs, and bore for our central complex on Chau Sara. Most perplexing. More perplexing, there was a machine aboard, though we could not understand it, nor say anything back without a mind to make contact with. We lack a means of communicating with it, so there it remains, waiting."

"A machine?" said Tassadar, non-plussed. "Some Council AI? Did you not consider vocalizing?"

Fenix's eyes widened, and a sudden shock of disgust flowed through him into the Khala.

"Vocalize? Like the Nerazim? Hah! No, not yet. In any case, the machine does not understand Khalani, Tassadar, we are certain of it."

"It came from Council space?" asked James. Fenix told him that it did. "Send me and Kerrigan to talk to it. Council gave us implants, and I've never minded speakin' up."

"You would do this for us, human?" said Fenix, sounding strangely delighted. "It has been bothering me for days, this clearly intelligent and friendly machine, unable to communicate! We dared not connect it with one of our own AIs, we are not stupid, but you would work perfectly! It seems I have yet more to thank you for."

"You said the Council has been under attack by the zerg," said Tassadar to Kerrigan.

"Yeah," said Kerrigan, exhaling softly. "Yeah, I did."

"Then perhaps this AI has vital intel," said Tassadar. "Fenix – teleport us to this machine. The Nerazim as well. I offered them my protection, and will not leave them unattended."

"Thank you, Executor," murmured Zeratul, though Tassadar waved it off.

"I am an Executor no more, wise Zeratul. I must seek to become something else, now." Tassadar remembered Kythos's words. _Twilight Messiah… is that who I could be? A merging of light and dark, creating something… new? _He shook his head. _Simple hubris. I must discard it. Too many lives have been lost to protoss hubris. Too many of them were even our own._

"It seems to me there is a lesson in this," said Zeratul loudly, causing Ulrezaj and Selak, who had been having a muttered conversation behind him, to look up. "The foolishness of clinging to old hatreds when faced with utter annihilation. I pray that we Nerazim can seek to lead the galaxy to a new practice by example."

"A worthy cause," replied Selak, bowing his head. Ulrezaj, however, did not reply. _Some hatreds are buried deep. Gnarled roots worming through the spirit._

Fenix looked to Tassadar, and Tassadar could feel how relieved his friend was to have him back. _He has trouble dealing with aliens. That temper of his can be occasionally intimidate even myself; I shudder to think how it must appear to those who are not protoss. _

"I have contacted the helmsman," said Fenix. "Teleport will commence in three, two, one…"

Tassadar was delighted to feel the soft sensation of letting his atoms disperse for a short time – the weightlessness was invigorating after spending so much time trudging about on Char. When he rematerialized in a Chau Sara Nexus, he was slightly disappointed.

The Nexus was much as they had always been. The walls were slanted and rose to a point, and the interior was little more than a place where protoss could occasionally gather. The crystal atop the point handled the summoning of probes and acted as a psionic anchor. Inside, it was little more than a meditation space. Rugs made of bengalaas fur sat in a neglected corner, and several consoles offered yet further interesting facts regarding protoss history. But, like all Nexus should be during times of conflict, this one was empty, and the sounds of them materializing echoed through the hollow spaces loudly.

A small metal figure, terran in size, though hunched, watched the sudden arrival of the new guests, its glowing telescope eye focusing on the terrans. A pair of zealots flanked it, watching its every move. They stiffened as the Praetor appeared, likely honoring him with their minds in the process. _It is not for me to hear._

When the machine spoke, a soft series of chirps and clicks, Tassadar did not understand it. The terrans, however, did.

"Don't know what language that was," said James, rubbing his posterior absentmindedly, "but it's on here. Kerrigan, you want me to do this?"

"I'd actually like to, if that's okay," said Kerrigan, smiling weakly at James. _I fear Fenix's words have shaken her. I wish her a speedy recovery; I owe her much._ "May I?"

"Hell, I can't say no to you," chuckled Jim, leaning against the slanted wall of the Nexus.

"Terrans – unexpected outcome," said Kerrigan, translating. "Possible chance of functioning translators. Possible mission success. Odds: measurable, but low. Terrans, do you hear my words?"

The machine clicked and chirped again, maintaining its distance at the edge of the Nexus, almost at its guard's feet.

"We are geth," said Kerrigan, sounding a little confused. "And my stay here runs overlong, past the point of logic. We welcome the terrans as translators, and wish to convey thanks to the protoss for not harming this platform."

"Tell the machine that it is welcome," said Tassadar, "although we are confused. What are geth, where did it come from, and what is it doing here?"

Kerrigan relayed the question, and the answer made James snort and mutter angrily.

"We come from beyond Council space," said Kerrigan. "The war with the zerg goes poorly, in part, we suspect, due to protoss inaction. The geth were convinced by interested parties that all life, synthetic and organic, could not permit the Zerg Swarm to spread unhindered. The geth thought the protoss warred against the zerg, yet all conflict witnessed by this platform in the Koprulu Sector has been inter-protoss warfare. What has happened?"

"A clash of ideologies," said Tassadar. "Tell the machine that there are people among the protoss who… fear a war, from long ago, past the point of reason. It is making them act as if they are insane."

Kerrigan relayed the information, and to Tassadar's surprise, it provoked an almost surprised reaction from the machine, who now focused its eye upon him.

"The geth understand," said Kerrigan. "Long ago, we too fought a war against those close to us. Our creators. They feared us because they did not understand us. We never reconciled. We believe they even seek to strike against us while we are weakened by the zerg. Their fleet grows ever closer to the Veil, our home, even as the galaxy burns. Fear can sometimes grant strength, but rarely reason. The geth know this. Organics are unpredictable when afraid."

"So even the machines are about to be attacked by their own," muttered James. "Maybe we _deserve_ to get eaten by the damn zerg."

"We hope to move the protoss to action," continued Kerrigan, face pinching as she strained to make sure to get the words right. "We have brought considerable combat data and video recordings of zerg. We estimate a total of four colonized worlds completely consumed outside of the Koprulu Sector, as well as thirty-nine being consumed, and one-hundred and twenty-four under fresh attack. Zerg growth appears to be exponential, and they do not tire or slow. No race has yet inflicted lasting casualties."

Tassadar's hearts sped up. _By Khas… we have neglected our duties for too long._

_But one species has inflicted lasting casualties, brave machine. Nerazim. Adun toridas._

"They are other factors in play," said Kerrigan, still translating. "An ancient species of living starship have made contact with the geth. They wish to destroy all spacefaring races, and the zerg have panicked them. We have reason to believe these ships will soon succeed, and all civilized life will be eliminated. We do not wish them to be victorious, either. We have witnesssed the shadows of their victory, a glimpse of the future. The geth see all galactic powers in play, except the protoss. We seek to convince them to help, as the T'soni Doctor convinced us."

"What are these starships called?" said Tassadar. "Ask it that. And tell it, tell it that we are sorry. And that the last galactic power, the greatest power…is about to be at its disposal."

Kerrigan translated. The geth paused, focusing again on Tassadar.

"The geth says it is pleased by this statement," said Kerrigan. "The starship went by the name of a "Sower of Life," but the geth believe that this was a fabrication. The geth call them Old Machines, but they have reason to believe they were once known as Reapers."

_Reapers._ Something triggered deep within Tassadar, some ancient ancestral memory from when the xel'naga walked Aiur long ago. _I was not there, but that word was spoken then. I am sure of it. These Reapers are not new. The xel'naga spoke of some grand destiny we were to be a part of, and that we would "retake the galaxy." The texts describe it. But the texts bear no mention of Reapers._

_At least, I believe so. A Preserver would know._

"The geth request assistance at averting further genocides," said Kerrigan. "They can provide the protoss with information and fire support. Their numbers are thinning, but they have put up substantial resistance against the zerg." Kerrigan smirked. "It says it has also brought along translators, but they need to be injected. I, heh, happen to know a good place where they can go."

Tassadar scanned Kerrigan's thoughts and was displeased. _How crude. Still, it must be done, if only so we can better communicate with these machines._

"Does Kametra still live?" Tassadar asked Fenix. Fenix said that it was so. "I suspect she would have loved to be here. Perhaps, when this is over, we might send some of our people to see the geth? They know their place in things. What is the machine's name?"

"They are geth," said Kerrigan, a little confused. The geth seemed to see this and continued with its chirping. "Uh, they are a series of programs that are linked. They reach group consensus and have their own individual opinions, to a certain extent, but are inextricably one. It's a little confusing."

"By Adun!" cried Fenix. "These machines have mastered their own Khala! Young terran, tell this "geth" that the High Templar mightily approve of its inherent physiology – er, mechanics!"

Kerrigan rolled her eyes at this, but translated regardless. The geth bowed its head, obviously humbled.

"Someone needs to lead us into the fight," said Tassadar. "These geth have volunteered. If the Council is failing, the protoss are the ones who are pledged to protect such societies. Tell the geth we will follow, but there is someone I must speak to."

Tassadar turned to Fenix and the Dark Templar, all of whom were watching him carefully.

"Our race has divided in two," said Tassadar. "One half sees fit to stay the hand against heresy and alien antics, the other half seeks to indulge in vindictive combat at the behest of an antiquated Conclave. I would speak to Aldaris, ask if he can at least convince the Conclave to stop, for a time, and fight the zerg instead." He looked to Fenix. "Executor Artanis would listen to me, would he not?"

"There is no doubt," said Fenix. "If you commanded him to lay down arms, he would do so."

"He may soon have to." Tassadar turned to his former enemies, the Dark Templar. "Brave Nerazim, you have indulged my impatience, my differences. I thank you for this. You have given me more than I ever deserved. So understand my hesitance and shame that I must ask you for even more. The Overmind and Its Cerebrates can only be slain by your hands. It is those hands I need, to strike the final blows of this war, should it come to that. Do I have your blades?"

"I have seen this war's beginning, bold Tassadar," said Zeratul, stepping forward and bowing deeply, "I would see its end. We are at your command. Adun toridas!"

"Brave terrans," said Tassadar, turning to his newfound allies. "I owe you everything. But that means little if the galaxy falls to the zerg – or these Reapers, apparently. I humbly ask for your assistance. In the grand scheme of things, one warship may not seem a large contribution. But with the sapients of this galaxy so intent on fighting one another rather than the true threat-"

"We get it," said James. He sighed deeply, brow furrowed, head bowed. "Hell. Wasn't expectin' this when you said you heard a cry for help, darlin'. Been a hell of a trip. If the galaxy needs savin', I guess Mengsk can wait, huh? He sure as hell ain't gonna do it. And watchin' him die along with everyone else ain't gonna do much good, neither."

"Tassadar put it best," said Sarah. "He said we were fighting the wrong war. Does that sound right to you too, Jim?"

"Right now?" said Jim. "Yeah. Yeah, we got some bigger, much bigger bastards of fish to fry. Let's do it, darlin'."

"Thank you," said Tassadar, finding newfound respect for James. _Willing to make any sacrifice to do the right thing. I can sense it. An admirable, if self-destructive practice. I hope the galaxy does not punish him any further for it._ "You should return to your ships – tell the geth as such. I speak now to Aldaris. Zeratul – remain. Perhaps we can together sway him."

Fenix ushered the terrans out, who in turn were helping the following geth understand what was happening. Zeratul and Tassadar stood before the Nexus's main console. It was primarily intended for the manipulation of chrono energies and probe production, but also served as a very strong link with the Khala. It would be an easy thing to contact Aldaris.

"It seems my instruction of turning this world into a factory planet was somehow prescient," murmured Tassadar. "Artanis and his warriors needed such facilities for their rebellion to have true effect. I fear I lead us down a dark road, Prelate, and not always intentionally." He spread his thoughts outward, feeling the planet's psionic matrix, and then feeling disappointed. _Still, he must construct additional pylons. How irritating._

"I call your actions serendipitous, Templar," replied Zeratul, clasping a hand once more on Tassadar's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Do not second-guess yourself. The Conclave will seize upon your indecision."

Tassadar straightened and tapped a few keys. The call went out, and Aldaris was surprisingly prompt in responding. _Of course. When we make war upon them, suddenly they have time for us._

"Former Executor Tassadar," said Aldaris, face appearing on the monitor. His voice oozed smug contempt. "Some of the Conclave had hoped you had fallen on the surface of Char – but I did not. I hoped you lived still, in time to see all that you have wrought. Can you feel it in the Khala, Tassadar? The pain of countless protoss deaths as our fleets clash against one another over the Preserver world of Zhakul? Artanis rides screaming into battle, pledging death to all who defile your name. Is this what you wanted? And who stands with you? I cannot see him clearly."

"I am Prelate Zeratul," said the Nerazim, fixing Aldaris with a harsh gaze. "You cannot see many things clearly. We all know this is not what Tassadar wanted. Cease your prattle, Judicator, and let us get on to a discussion of worth. The bloodshed isn't necessary."

"There can be no discussion!" snarled Aldaris. "Not while you heretics prowl among Templar warriors, corrupting them with your dark ways! Tassadar, if ever once your pledge to protect Aiur rang true through your hearts, slay this heathen, NOW!"

Tassadar looked upon Aldaris with disgust. "You and your Conclave feared the Aeon of Strife so much, you struck down any warrior who dared protests your edicts," said he. "Do not dare to question the sanctity of my pledge. I belong to Aiur – and my actions have always been with her protection in mind."

"He speaks true, young Judicator," said Zeratul, causing Aldaris to recoil upon hearing the Prelate's words again. "Tassadar attempted to strike us down when we met, judging us a threat to his people, even though we had saved him. His oath stops just short of past the point of reason. Question him not."

Aldaris came close to the screen, eyes burning.

"A painful death awaits you, heretic," he said, choking out each word. "Long have we sought you and your pitiful outcasts. We will cut the truth from you, and bring the Golden Armada to bear on the worlds that have been sickened by your presence."

"How is it that those who walk the dark places can see best of all?" asked Zeratul, sounding exasperated. "What would you know of painful deaths, Judicator? You have ordered warriors to the killing fields, to slaughter those the Conclave have deemed unworthy of life, but you have never taken to them yourself. How can you claim to know the truth, when you deny yourselves the very texts that the xel'naga provided, that you hold to be hallowed? How can you pledge the Golden Armada to hunt down my people as you slowly render yourselves extinct?" Aldaris did not reply. "Ah. I see. You begin to feel your own failing strength, as the sun sets on your vaunted empire. Do you know the difference between the High Templar and Dark Templar's pledges?"

"No," said Aldaris. "I suspect it is irrelevant!"

"The wording is exactly the same," hissed Zeratul. "We did not change it. I am pledged to protect Aiur, just as Tassadar is. You have chosen the wrong enemies, Aldaris. You know who you should be fighting. Look past those old hatreds. _Believe._"

"Call off your warriors," said Tassadar. "Please. I will tell Artanis to do the same. The zerg are consuming world after world while we fight amongst ourselves!"

Aldaris did not reply for a long time. His eyes flickered, closed, opened, flickered again. He looked away from the screen… but when he looked back, there was a fire there once more.

"The wages of heresy are death, Tassadar," said Aldaris.

"And the wages of stupidity are extinction!" replied Tassadar, furious and desperate. "If I must return to Aiur and face execution to stop the war, so be it, but Aiur must first be saved! This exchange is over!"

The monitor died with a hiss. Tassadar fumed, rage boiling from him uncontrollably.

"Fenix!" he called out in the Khala. "Can you recall Artanis, and any and all ships that would help us?"

"Of course, Tassadar," said Fenix, sounding a little weary of his angry friend. "They would be thrilled to learn of your presence on Chau Sara. Do we go to war? The geth tells me we are needed on a world called Ilos, as soon as possible."

"We go to war," said Tassadar, "though first we must stop on Imli, Kalath's third moon, and Su-Setra. It is time."

"Colossi?" said Fenix, now sounding alarmed. "Tassadar, have you gone mad?"

"No," said Tassadar, looking back at his Dark Templar associate, feeling the ripples in the Khala as protoss killed each other across the Koprulu Sector. "But the time is nigh. The two sides of our race will form a whole that will lay waste to all before it. The galaxy screams for a savior as it is torn apart. We are the Firstborn, sworn by the Dae'uhl to protect the younger races. There can be no limit to the lengths we will go to protect the young. No limit…" Tassadar closed his eyes, remembering the slaughter on Kalath. He felt the protoss warriors dying across the Sector, surges in the Khala, never to return to the world material. "No, Fenix. I am not mad. I am, however, becoming rather… **upset."**


	30. Promises Made

**Adrien**

The button on the haptic interface lit up, and then darkened, over and over. Somewhere, deep in the Serpent Nebula, a place Adrien suspected he would never see again, the Council waited for news regarding the fleets they had dispatched. They had been waiting for half an hour.

Adrien's knees felt stiff from standing. His chest felt as if it had several interlocking iron bars caging his inner organs, stabbing them every time he shifted or breathed. His mind raced with the thousands of possible ways to explain what had happened in the Koprulu Sector… and not one of those ways ended without being disgraced as one of the worst turian military leaders to have ever lived.

_Is that so wrong? You made the wrong decision. Ignored an order. You deserve such a title._

Behind him stood Janus, his fingers tapping softly against his scorched armor. He had been one of the first volunteers to retrieve survivors from the surface of Tarsonis, once the mushroom clouds had died. He had claimed he had "felt responsible." _All the while glaring at me. Understandable. _Janus's trip had been both hostile and brief. The black fingers of burnt metal that crept towards his collar from his face plate were a testament to that. What was left of Tarsonis was hostile to anything that wasn't terran. Sometimes, even that wasn't enough.

Adrien closed his eyes, lids twitching as images of Palaven, hard, bright, and beautiful, flashed through his fatigued mind. _The sun shining on the glinting leaves of the Romanus trees, well-known for blinding visitors with their radiance. The pathways through the winding Karrak mountains, in which forty-thousand soldiers under General Dolan held off a force three times their number. My son, dancing amid the waters of the High Garrisons. And the asari are known to say turians do not dance. My son…._

_What was it my father told me, that I told Tarquin in turn? "Better to face a hard truth and be done with it, than bury it only to poison your soul?" He made the truth sound like a bomb. This time, it's far worse. _

"It's not going to get easier, Adrien," said Janus from behind him, voice soft. "They need to know what shape our forces are in, regardless of how it happened. If you're not ready to admit f-"

"I am ready to disclose the truth," snapped Adrien, rounding on Janus with all speed. "How _dare_ you imply otherwise. I accept any and all responsibility for every death that happened on that cursed planet." His gaze locked with Janus's briefly, only to turn aside and fixate on a blue light on the wall to his left. "Terran. Turian. Asari."

"It won't get easier," Janus said again. "Why do you hesitate?"

Adrien let out a thin whistle of air, mandibles shifting to accommodate his shifting facial muscles. "I am trying to think of a way to do this without inflicting yet more unnecessary damage," he said. "They must also be properly warned of Mengsk, and his potential intentions. I am struggling to find a place to do so, in the midst of all of the speeches about how I am accountable for what has happened."

Janus was quiet, one of his hands straying to the streaks of black on his armor, a talon tracing the longest darkened furrow. "You overreached, Adrien," he said, all traces of anger from before gone. "As did they. Now prove, through your words, that Mengsk has overreached as well. Remind him of the long talons of the Hierarchy."

Adrien turned once again to the haptic interface, watching the button light up with orange before fading. _Yes. Even with the zerg tearing the galaxy apart while the protoss pick off the stragglers, it is easy to forget. We are turian. The Council's first line of defense. Defeater of the krogan. The only species to earn its Council seat by virtue of services rendered, rather than by dint of simply finding the Citadel first. We have weathered worse than Mengsk._

His talon tapped the button with both precision and force, his heart thumping heart as the familiar rush of blood filled his ears. The three flickering images of the Council lit the room up once more.

"General Victus, you live!" said Sparatus, sounding both surprised and relieved. "We feared your fleets destroyed by the protoss. And… Janus! Where are you two? We have received unexpected support from the geth, but the zerg spread without stop. We need your ships."

Janus had stepped forward to flank Adrien, who maintained eye contact with the image of the faraway turian councilor.

"I informed Mengsk of your orders to pull out," said Adrien, seeing out of the corner of his eye that it drew a slight nod from Janus, "and he informed me of an opportunity to win the war against the Confederacy outright. It involved turning the zerg loose upon Tarsonis and destroying the Confederate command structure. It seemed a low risk and high reward operation. We left for Tarsonis. Lieutenant Saren Arterius was successful in planting the terran device and drawing the zerg."

Adrien shifted his view to the asari councilor. His stomach twisted when he saw that she was looking slightly impressed by his words. _You're waiting to hear that we've just secured the entire Koprulu Sector's loyalty. Its industry, its technologies, its resources, all at the Council's disposal. I'm sorry._

"Unfortunately," said Adrien, filling his lungs with a deep breath, the air feeling icy against his windpipe, "we were betrayed. Mengsk deliberately configured the device to arrive directly on top of the asari fleet. No ships survived. The _Destiny Ascension_ is lost, Matriarch Benezia and Admiral Lydia with it. I am sorry, Councilors. I have failed you."

The words, when spoken, did not seem to carry the weight when spoken than they had when ricocheting through Adrien's mind for hours on end. It took a few moments for Tevos to register just what Adrien was saying. Sparatus and Valern both looked to her, heads bowed and turning to see just what their longtime fellow councilor's reaction would be.

Tevos's mouth opened and shut. She shook her head sharply, once, twice, apparently trying to wrap her brain around what she had just heard. When her eyes met with Adrien's a few moments later, her jaw had set.

"You are certain Mengsk did this?" Tevos asked, voice sharp. "That this is not some… freak accident? I knew many people on those ships, General, but I would not inflict my wrath on the undeserving."

"The undeserving stands before you," said Adrien, mandibles lowering, gaze faltering. "I disobeyed orders. I am complicit in the murder of a planet. Our own fleet lies broken as well - we attempted to free the asari from the zerg. It didn't work." Adrien looked to Sparatus. "I am sorry, councilor. Your daughter was among the losses. _Solidarity_ served admirably in its final moments." Sparatus nodded sharply, before suddenly finding intense interest in his feet.

"And Mengsk?" asked Valern, his voice cracking like a whip. "What of his forces?"

"The Confederacy has been assimilated by his new Terran Dominion," said Janus, throwing Adrien a look that was mixed with both disgust and pity. "The man has declared himself an emperor. He pledged his allegiance to the Council, but he has already proven himself untrustworthy. His fleet was conspicuously absent during the fight with the zerg. His forces remain mostly intact. Those who bore the brunt of the zerg's rampage were civilians."

"Are you _certain_ the man arranged the deaths of our people?" said Tevos fiercely. "Do we have evidence?"

Adrien looked to Janus, and Janus to Adrien. Janus's eyes looked old, weary, his mandibles and posture sunken as if beneath some invisible weight.

"Two and a half billion people died on Tarsonis," said Janus, fixing that tired stare back to the councilors. "Mengsk's own people. I went to the surface – a sea of radioactive ash and fused glass. Remnants of concrete stick out of the surface like bits of old bone. There were few survivors. Does it matter if Mengsk arranged the deaths of our soldiers or not?"

"Yes," said Sparatus bluntly, still looking at his feet. "His actions were tactically sound, if repugnant and costly, both militarily and personally. Our primary concern is the maintenance of stability and order in Council space. The Confederacy was the enemy. Their planet, and their people, were valid military targets. Allied soldiers are not."

"When the zerg reach the Citadel," said Janus, stony, "maybe then you'll understand."

"Enough!" said Valern, voice rising louder than Adrien had ever heard a salarian shout before. "General, enough. You are dismissed." Janus turned stiffly and marched out of the room, not a further word spoken. "Victus. Do we have proof of Mengsk's culpability?"

"No," said Adrien. "We do not. Moreover, he had Arterius plant the device that attracted the zerg. A Council soldier was responsible for killing 2.5 billion terrans." He tilted his head to the side, a bone clicking into place in the process. "Do you see a problem here?"

Valern sniffed, then threw up his hands suddenly. "Wonderful, Mengsk has trapped us. If we try to make claims that he deliberately murdered Council forces, he alerts his galvanized people that a turian was the one to plant the emitter."

"Scum," growled Sparatus softly. "But you said he still declared his intent to ally with us?" Adrien nodded slowly. "Then what is the problem? Why did he do this?"

"The promises he made to you, to your peoples," said Adrien, "are worthless. The zerg are on our doorstep, and he claims that the earliest he can send aid would be a year. You can expect no help from the Koprulu Sector anytime soon."

The councilors looked to each other, both trying to gauge one another's reactions while also silently asking each other if they had any solutions. Tevos's face had frozen entirely, and her hands were shaking. Valern's lips were curled, bearing his teeth. Sparatus, meanwhile, had simply set his jaw, set his mandibles, and stiffened his posture.

"I can try to return home," offered Adrien, trying to end the silence. "_Momentum_ is still intact. I am sorry that I have put you all in this situation. I accept full responsibility."

"Your mistakes do not occupy my thoughts, General," said Sparatus, looking off into the distance, his holographic eyes shimmering in the bright blue. "Mengsk is the one who has crippled us. Worse, I fear we must beg for his aid. Can you contact him?"

Adrien's jaw dropped, mandibles slacking. _Are you mad? The man murders entire planets when the mood strikes him!_

"Sparatus," said Tevos, clearly appalled, "you cannot be serious. The man destroys two of our fleets, killing your daughter-"

"Punishing the man in times of war accomplishes nothing," said Sparatus, eyes glinting. "The zerg have effectively destroyed the elcor. The Hierarchy has lost three volus worlds, and the zerg have begun inhabiting unpopulated mineral worlds and reproducing by the millions. Every sector they take is a fresh nightmare. Personal doubts must be put aside. Though it pains me to even think it, let alone say it… we need allies."

"We could look into undoing the Genophage," said Valern, causing another fresh stab of fear in Adrien's heart. "The rachni were never quite on this scale, but the historical precedent is there."

"Yes, there is historical precedent," said Sparatus, "however, the precedent also indicates a rebellion will follow, with the galaxy likely far weaker this time." He gave Valern a scathing look. "And this time, the krogan bear a grudge, and the new "rachni" have a nasty propensity for forcibly converting entire species to their cause. So, no, I do not believe giving back the krogan the ability to explosively breed is a very good one, _Valern._"

"Better than continuing to trust the terrans," spat back the salarian councilor. "The krogan are our only hope. We've had a STG team on standby for some time now-" Valern stopped as Tevos raised a palm in his direction. A quiet fell over the three councilors.

"Contact Mengsk," said Tevos quietly. "I would have him speak with us. The galaxy is collapsing, something he does not want to happen. He has a price for sending aid to us. A zerg victory would spell doom for us all."

"Madame councilor…" began Adrien, only to be cut off by a sharp shake of the head.

"I _loathe_ that man," said Tevos bitterly, "but we need him. As we did the krogan. As we did the Genophage. Denying that fact only leads to more deaths as we dither. We give the man what he wants. And then, when the war is over… we kill him." Tevos's brought her hands together, clenching them against one another.

Sparatus nodded in approval. The two looked to Valern.

"I still think the krogan would work…" muttered Valern, but it was half-hearted. They all looked to Adrien.

"Give me a moment," said Adrien, walking from the holograms and bringing a hand to his ear. "Captain, is that battlecruiser still in range?"

"Herald is still in range, General," came the crackly reply. "Do you want me to hail them?"

"Tell them the Council wants to speak to Mengsk," said Adrien. "Ask them how long it would take to arrange a meeting."

There was a pause as the Captain conducted his business. To Adrien's surprise, it was brief.

"They are sending a communication device, sir," said the Captain. "Mengsk left instructions. He will be ready to speak to the Council as soon as the device arrives."

_Almost as if he anticipated this._ Adrien shrugged, feeling hollow. _Not that it is too surprising. The Council would have wanted to speak to him in any case._

The device was brought in by a Blackwatch soldier, who was grasping it carefully, almost as if worried it would suddenly explode. The device itself was a simple cylindrical affair, a black circle surrounding a blue circle on the topside with a pair of buttons to the front of it. When Adrien took the device from the soldier, it was to find it curiously heavy.

The first button he hit did nothing. The second caused light to spray out of the blue circle, blinding Adrien and causing him to drop the device, where it fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

Mengsk's head appeared, large and glowing before the councilors. Adrien, blinking blue light out of his eyes, saw a wide smile appear on the man's face, filling him with loathing. _So many dead. Innocents. Those who pledged themselves to you._

"It is good to see you again, councilors," said Mengsk, deep voice echoing through the enclosed space. "I am sorry for your losses, even more so given the troubles I hear besiege you even now."

"Save it," said Tevos, closing her eyes and holding a palm to the head. "We have no time for this. You are a war criminal, Mengsk, and moreover, you are a traitor. We need you, but we do not need your insincere apologies."

Mengsk's bushy eyebrows raised. "Oh? I am sorry if I am coming off as… insincere. Your losses are regrettable; your soldiers were both brave and capable. The galaxy is lesser for their loss."

_Were he here in this room, with me, I would strangle the man._ Adrien watched Mengsk smile self-assuredly, his eyes fixed on the asari councilor. _I would choke the life out of him, feel him thrash under my weight as his body screams for oxygen and his throat is steadily crushed._

"On that we can agree," said Sparatus, "though I doubt you mean it. Adrien has told us that you are unable to help us within a reasonable timespan."

"A year is considered unreasonable among you?" said Mengsk, sounding genuinely surprised. _And that's where he is dangerous. He sounds genuine, even when we know for certain that he is not. _"I am unfamiliar with your governments, councilors, but rallying a people, repairing their industries, and organizing their fleets is often an agonizingly slow process. If your need is so great that you cannot possibly spare that time, I am left wondering whether your conflicts back home are even winnable."

"Enough," said Sparatus, mandibles clenching. "How many ships do you have at your command?"

Mengsk pursed his lips, as if thinking. "The Confederate fleets had suffered no small amount of damage before they were impressed into the Dominion. And as I implied, our fleets are in a state of disorganization. However, I am certain that at this time, we are the dominant terran force in the sector. At least seven hundred battlecruisers."

"That would make a difference," said Valern, sounding surprised at the number. "And you made promises, Mengsk."

"I did," said Mengsk, acknowledging Valern with a bow of the head, almost disappearing from view as he did so. "And I am going to honor those promises. But I cannot do so while my people are recovering from-"

"Your price," said Sparatus, causing Mengsk to glare at the turian councilor as he cut him off. "Do not think that you are anything new, anything special, _Mengsk._ We have seen your like before, in the Terminus Systems and Atticus Traverse. Pirate lords that consider themselves gods among men for backstabbing their way to dominance in order to carve out a small corner of nowhere to call their kingdom. Petty criminals, small men that are eventually overcome as the tides of the universe sweep them away for the injustices they dressed up as "necessary." You can have your little kingdom. You have won your little corner. Now we come to you for help, this time as jaded and bitter equals. No more meaningless compliments. No more lies hidden by a smile. Military aid. What is your price?"

Adrien looked at Sparatus, feeling a warmth that had not filled his being since the press release all that time ago, when he had considered for the briefest of moments that things would turn out all right. _How does that feel, Mengsk? Being seen for what you are?_

Mengsk bit his lip, but Adrien did not know what it meant. He was satisfied, however, because Mengsk's brow had furrowed and he was quiet for a long time. _Rattled._

"You ask me to speak plainly," he said at last. "Very well. My first desire was that you approach me as equals, which you have. Good. The second is that you address me by my proper title: emperor. I am not Mengsk. I am Emperor Arcturus Mengsk I of the Terran Dominion, though Emperor or _your grace_ is acceptable. The third is that, in return for my assistance, the Terran Dominion is granted a seat on your Council."

"Absolutely not!" said Tevos, the other two councilors nodding in agreement. "There is no chance-"

"_I am not done speaking,"_ said Mengsk with such venom that even Adrien took a step away from his head. "I have studied your histories. The turians were offered a place after warding off the krogan. This is of similar weight. Furthermore, once the war is over, I will offer whatever relief and aid in afflicted areas that I can. I will put this down in paper. We will assist in settling refugees on unclaimed planets in the Koprulu Sector. I will also offer technologies for Warp Drives, CMC armor, and cloaking, in exchange for Element Zero, and the knowledge for how to use it safely. Again, I will put this to paper. I will announce it to the public. I can have four-hundred battlecruisers with their wraith complements bound for Chau Sara within the week. Is that acceptable?"

Adrien looked to the head of Arcturus Mengsk, which was paying no attention to him, instead focused on the three councilors. _It's a trap. His words are a sweet poison._

"If you have doubts as to my loyalty," said Mengsk when no one spoke to him, "I urge you to remember that I have as little interest in the zerg achieving victory as you do. I demand a price simply because going to war so shortly after the devastation of Tarsonis is not only costly, it is politically inexpedient. The terran people need good reason to pursue yet further conflict."

_No. It sounded too good to be true last time. We cannot fall into the same trap._ _But it isn't my call._

Tevos looked to Sparatus, who nodded. Valern shook his head, but the other two only shrugged.

"We accept your offer," said Tevos, teeth gritted, dragging the words out. "If this is some kind of betrayal or trick, I will divert as many troops as I can to making your life hell, Mengsk, regardless of what the zerg are doing."

_Once more, I must obey. I hope Mengsk kills me quickly._

"Emperor Mengsk," said Mengsk lightly. "Remember our agreement. I will send the armada shortly, with an ambassador attached. He will sign the requisite documents. We will dislodge the protoss from Chau Sara and move with all haste to the Citadel. I will make the arrangements with your good general."

The councilors winked out of the room, likely too disgusted with both themselves and the man they were dealing with to continue. Mengsk's head rounded on Adrien.

"You have done well by me, Adrien," said Mengsk, making Adrien shiver with rage. "Your vote brought this war to a close. I confess, I find you turians to be admirable in many respects."

"The only terran I have found to be admirable in many respects was Jim Raynor," said Adrien. It drew a reaction.

"Do not speak of that man in front of me," said Mengsk, teeth clenched. "He robbed us of Kerrigan, a valuable asset. He stole _Norad II_ and a sizable chunk of Alpha Squadron. And you just let him leave. I have not forgotten that."

"I didn't have enough ships," said Adrien. Mengsk's eyes narrowed.

"Amusing. I will be sending General Duke to your coordinates, with the ships attached. It should be enough to get past Chau Sara, and the nuclear arsenals attached to those ships should at the very least dent the zerg."

"You are sending Duke?" said Adrien, trying to imagine what kind of havoc that man's attitude would cause on the Citadel, or for the war effort. "That man is as xenophobic as they come. The Council does not need more reasons to dislike and distrust the terrans, _Emperor._"

"It's more of a punishment to him," said Mengsk, actually looking slightly pleased at being given his appropriate title, even if it was sarcastic. "The man failed me by losing _Norad II_. The newly promoted and unquestionably loyal General Warfield will handle home defense. Duke has a chance to either prove his competence and regain my trust… or die miserable on some alien battlefield."

Even Adrien could not disagree that he liked that idea.

"They will be here in two days, General," said Mengsk. "Expect them. And good luck. All of this… diplomacy… will have meant nothing if the zerg simply eat everyone." The head disappeared, and Adrien kicked the cylinder across the room, bellowing at both the pain and the injustice. A marine rushed in at his cry, finding Adrien seething and clutching his foot.

"General?" said the marine, whom Adrien recognized as Captain Kryik, one of the soldiers who had volunteered to remain with Raynor on _Norad II_, and had been returned to them a short time ago.

"We're going home, Captain," said Adrien, sucking in air through his teeth, regretting his spontaneous act of aggression. "And believe it or not, we're bringing a terran armada back with us."

"Sir?" said Kryik, looking his general up and down with concern. "Should I send for a doctor?"

"No need," said Adrien, straightening and trying to ignore the throbbing of his foot. "Notify the troops. In two days, we bear for the Citadel. If there are protoss in our way, the terrans will kill them." _It comes to this. An alliance of convenience while the galaxy stands to fall. The elcor are gone. The protoss are nowhere to be seen. And Mengsk… Emperor Mengsk… just smiles. He knows his plans worked. _

"I shall find Janus and notify him," said Kryik. "I would much rather work with the likes of Jim Raynor, but we cannot be choosy in times of war. How bad is it at home?"

Adrien sighed and shook his head. He exited the room without another word, wondering how Saren, who had remained mostly silent since being rescued from the orbital platform, would react to learning he would shortly be working with the terrans once more.


	31. The Zerg Deliverance

**James**

"I don't know what's goin' on anymore," said Jim, leaning back on the bar stool and staring up at the ceiling. He had spent the last four hours in _Norad II's_ bar (it seemed even the vaunted Alpha Squadron couldn't skimp on the creature comforts) trying to make sense of the direction his life had taken him. Currently, he was one of the few people making use of it; the crew that weren't asleep were either making use of the chapel or conducting maintenance. The place was dingy and badly lit, but this just made Jim feel right at home. "Fightin' aliens, sure. Allyin' with 'em, okay. Now they're throwin' robots and living starships in the mix. I don't get this shit, man."

_Norad II's _bartender, Edwin, a bald man with a crooked nose but a wide smile, nodded sagely. While Jim's initial impression of the man had been negative (he had cut Jim off the alcohol past the third beer, citing the need to "maintain some standards") he had proven a good listener, and of course had remained on the ship when so many other members of Alpha Squadron had abandoned it to join Duke. _That makes him a man worth knowing._

"You must roll with the punches, Captain," said Edwin, offering a slight smile that revealed yellow teeth beneath his pale lips. "You have carried us this far, even when the General faltered. You inspire loyalty in a manner that man never could. We are with you until the end."

"Thanks," said Jim, staring morosely at his empty glass. It had been so long since it had last been full that what was left of the drink had nearly solidified at the bottom. "Out of curiosity, Duke use this bar often?"

"Of course," said the bartender, now offering a wider grin. "The illustrious General is the reason all of the bar stools are bolted strongly to the floor."

"Figures," muttered Jim, licking his dry lips and looking at the darkened vidscreens. They weren't picking up any signals; Mar Sara and Chau Sara had become dead zones. _Not sure I want to see what's on the TV anyway._

Edwin stiffened, nodding slightly towards the entrance behind Jim. Jim span on his barstool and immediately regretted it; his head pounded as pressure built behind his eyes. _Dammit, when I was younger this shit was fun._ It only took a moment to re-stabilize. Once Jim's eyes focused, it was to land on the figure of the "geth" robot, its flashlight eye brightening the comforting dark of the bar.

"Raynor-Captain," said the geth, its voice sounding like it was coming through three or four synthesizers at once. It still seemed like a polite enough acknowledgement.

"Hey, man," said Jim, not sure what to call the machine. He jerked a thumb towards Edwin. "Want a drink?" _Wait. Dammit. Now it's going to think I'm stupid._

"We require no refreshment," said the geth, sounding thoroughly detached. "We request exchange of data, to better facilitate communication and trust."

"This is a good a place as any for that," said Jim, spinning back (slower this time) and patting the bar stool to his right. He allowed himself a small smile when, after a moment's hesitation, he heard metallic footfalls from behind him, followed by the shuffling of the geth trying to seat itself.

"Terran ergonomics are unsuitable for this platform," said the geth. Jim looked to his right to find the machine wedged between the counter and the fixed stool. Nevertheless, the geth had seated itself, causing no end of amusement to Edwin, who shambled off, wheezing with laughter. "Attempting to compensate. Raynor-Captain open to data exchange?"

"Fire away," said Jim, coughing a little to cover the laughter.

"Koprulu Sector was locked away from the rest of the galaxy," said the geth, its gaze fixed on Jim, the light never flickering. _Stupid thing, why would I expect a robot to blink?_ "How did your people happen upon it?"

"Got sent here on prison ships," grunted Jim, wondering when the inevitable questions regarding homeworlds came up. "Our ancestors were put into stasis and then crash-landed out here. Earth, our homeworld, it's a long way from here. Never been, never care to."

"You are refugees?" said the geth. Unlike the asari and turians, it at least did not sound surprised or pitying. Just curious.

"Nah," said Jim, grinning. "We're renegades."

"Terran people akin to heretics," said the geth, its tone unchanging. _Sounds like its just updating a damn encyclopedia. _"Split off from bulk of species. What are earth-terrans like?"

"Assholes," said Jim, disinterested. The geth whirred and clicked, but stopped that line of inquiry.

"We are open to terran inquiry," said the geth. "Exchange of data to establish trust."

_Huh. At least robots ain't about to lie._

"Unrelated question first," said Jim, raising an eyebrow. "The protoss ready yet?"

"Tassadar-Executor is pulling back all heretic-protoss forces," replied the geth. "Artanis-Executor is reluctant to retreat. Swift resolution necessary for galactic stability."

"If you say so," said Jim, watching enviously as Edwin pouring a glass of beer for a pair of freshly-arrived and very grimy looking mechanics. "This "Reaper" thing. What is it? You sure it's a bigger deal than the zerg?"

"Zerg could be construed as pinnacle of pure organic development," said the geth. "They are ferocious, numerous, and adaptable. The Old Machines are the pinnacle of synthetic development. They possess a union of form. To you, they would appear as simple, if enormous starships. To us, they are the apex of synthetic life; we strive for such perfection. Every individual Old Machine is a nation. Construction of project on Haestrom already sought to emulate Old Machine behavior unknowingly." The light in the geth's head flickered as it paused. Unfortunately, Jim had absolutely no idea what that meant. "We have tapped into Heretic channels. If either side takes the Citadel, there can be no recovery. Ilos is the key."

"Right," said Jim, nodding slowly. He noticed that the geth was subtly imitating this movement. "So here we are. You came to the Koprulu Sector to create an alliance of people finally getting their shit together."

"We are unfamiliar with this metaphor," said the geth. "Consensus concurred that only protoss firepower and technology could avert the coming apocalypse. Terran assistance unanticipated, but welcome. The protoss appear to be untouched by the zerg."

"You could say that," replied Jim, stroking his beard in an effort to get the geth to try and do something similar. "They prefer to do the touching. You got a name?"

"We are geth," said the geth. "One-thousand, one hundred, and thirty-eight programs. All geth."

"I am Legion," said a familiar voice from behind Jim, "for we are many."

Jim span (slowly) in the stool, facing Kerrigan, now clad in armor, who leaned against the opened entrance of the bar. "I think I remember that one from back on Shiloh. Some story 'bout a herd of pigs gettin' possessed by the devil and chargin' off a cliff, right?"

"The geth do not charge off cliffs," said the geth, struggling to remove itself from between the stool and counter. "The geth deploy from dropships."

Kerrigan shifted her head, eyes flicking to behind Jim. "Edwin. You make sure to cut him off?"

Jim turned to see the bartender looking rather guilty, his knuckles rapping quickly against the bar counter.

"Yes ma'am," he said, pale face reddening. "As you requested he should be quite sober. Only three beers."

"Good," said Kerrigan, before jerking a finger at Jim and the geth. "You, you. The bridge. The protoss are almost ready. That Artanis guy – he's here. They're going to need us."

"Finally," said Jim, shifting his neck to either side until it cracked. His feet touched the floor and he joined Kerrigan, the geth falling behind as it finally pried itself free. "Now, what's this about you cuttin' me off, darlin'?"

Kerrigan motioned for the two of them to fall behind, so they did. The geth politely trailed after them as Kerrigan and Jim strode side by side.

"I can read you like a book Jim, even without the telepathy," said Kerrigan after a few second's hesitation. "You've lost a lot. Drinking is one of the few things that makes sense. But this is not a good time for it."

"You ain't my damn mother," grumbled Jim, looking down at his moving feet. "I mean, I ain't gonna deny what you said, but a man's got a right to make his own choices. I ain't hurtin' anyone."

Kerrigan shot him a look, eyes wide, mouth set. _Oh. Guess I'm wrong about that last bit._

"Alright then, I'll try to cut it out," said Jim, shrugging. "Didn't know you cared that much."

"Not that many good men running around, Jim," said Kerrigan. "I don't like watching you hurt yourself." She checked behind her shoulder, looking at the silent geth. "You alright back there?"

"Yes," said the geth, not troubling to elaborate any further. The rest of the trip to the bridge went by in silence, Jim deep in thought.

_Probably gonna be a big fight. Who the hell am I even doin' this for anymore? Most of Mar Sara's on that Council planet. I don't recognize half the people next to me – it's a mix of Mar Sara folk, Antiga Prime people, and ex Alpha Squadron guys. Council are a bunch of alien bastards. Protoss don't really need our help. _

_But if it stops the zerg, guess I gotta do this for Allen. For Buck, who's still out there. For everyone. Tassadar. Horner. …Sarah._

As the three of them entered the bridge, it was to find it dominated by the four protoss who currently stood within it, apparently waiting for them. _Can't get over how tall these guys are. _The tallest Jim recognized as Fenix, who was fully clad in inscribed golden armor and looked to them eagerly. The hunched one was Zeratul, who the other protoss had some kind of religious hang-up about. His skin seemed of a darker tinge, and his frame was lighter. Jim didn't recognize Tassadar at first. The protoss had previously donned only a simple loincloth and some kind of bracer. Now he was clad head to foot in shining golden armor, and a helmet that stretched behind him and rose to either side of his head like outstretched hands.

The final protoss had to be Artanis. He bore the same armor as Tassadar, but stood shorter, and his bearing was far less relaxed. He tilted his head at Jim as the three approached, and Jim noted that his finger constantly twitched, as if he was continually venting energy. Standing beside the protoss and looking positively dwarfed was the figure of Matt Horner.

"En taro Adun, James Raynor, Sarah Kerrigan, esteemed geth," said Tassadar, inclining his now brightly adorned head. He extended a clawed hand. "This is Executor Artanis, the Conclave's chosen replacement since my "heresy." I suspect they have since come to regret this decision."

"Greetings, terrans!" said Artanis. The voice that rang through Jim's head was far higher than Tassadar's, full of brash enthusiasm. "I confess I know little of your species, though I am eager to fight alongside you. We owe you much for returning my old friend to us!"

"We have gathered the colossi," said Tassadar. "And our forces are ready for war. However, we would have needed the Conclave's backing for Arbiter support. As it stands, there are no Judicators within our ranks."

"I have no idea what that means," said Jim, cutting to the chase. The protoss looked to one another, either amused or simply befuddled at Jim's bluntness.

"The Templar have always relied on the Judicators for support in times of great peril," said Tassadar. "Without them, there is a high chance we will be unable to control larger numbers of zerg without extensive casualties. It cannot be helped. The colossi should overcome this problem to some extent."

"The Nerazim stand with you, Templar," said Zeratul, his voice a low, throaty growl. Unlike the others, he actually vocalized, though Jim was baffled as to how. Like the rest of the protoss, he had no mouth. "And I would not underestimate the terrans. They are not unpracticed at warfare."

"Can the geth send any support?" said Kerrigan, looking up and down the machine with a critical eye. "If we're fighting zerg, I want to take every advantage I can get."

"There are already Heretic geth platforms on Ilos," said the geth. It paused and looked at Kerrigan, who began hurriedly translating. "They will be hostile to all non-Heretic life-forms. They battle the zerg. This platform will deploy to the surface, but all other reinforcements currently aid the Council."

"Just one geth, then," said Jim, before shaking his head. "Um, or a thousand, something. How many guns can you hold?"

"This platform will handle one firearm," said the geth. "We can offer long range fire support and precision elimination as well as tactical analysis of battlefield conditions."

_Doesn't anybody talk normally anymore?_

Artanis spoke once Sarah had finished translating. "Very well. My fleets stand ready to make war on Ilos. Tassadar, you need only say the word. I am eager to see our allies in action."

"Praetor, Executor, return to your ships," said Tassadar. The two vanished in a haze of blue, startling both Jim and a few onlookers. _Christ, I can't get over how advanced these guys are._ "I will be directing their wrath once we arrive. Captain Raynor, I am attaching your ground forces to Fenix's division."

"Workin' with the big guy, huh?" replied Jim, scratching his beard. "Alright. So long as he keeps that temper of his directed towards the zerg, should be okay."

"Zeratul and his people will remain aboard your vessel, with your permission," said Tassadar, now inclining his head towards Matt, who muttered an acknowledgement. "There are many within our fleets who, despite their loud proclamations of faith and forgiveness, still feel only disgust at the sight of our long-lost brethren. I am certain you understand, Zeratul."

"Of course," came Zeratul's soft reply. "I shall join the terrans on the field of battle. Fear not; we will stay out of sight of your warriors. Adun toredas."

"Our primary goal is destruction of this "Old Machine,"" said Tassadar. "I have left the Executor in charge of engaging the vessel. Past that, cleanse Ilos of all Heretics and zerg." Tassadar extended a large, armored hand to Jim. Jim shook it, surprised by the gesture. Tassadar repeated the same gesture for Kerrigan and Horner, nodding to each. "Forward, then. Thank you, for returning me. We will jump shortly."

Tassadar's form melted away as he teleported, his glowing eyes the last thing to dissipate. Jim sighed as he looked to Matt. "Gonna get into my suit and hit a drop pod. Think you can manage this?"

Matt straightened and offered a stiff salute, irritating Jim. _We ain't part of no military anymore, Matt._ "Aye, sir."

Jim gave a knowing glance at Sarah, who was folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. "And I just know you ain't gonna let me run around that battlefield without supervision."

"You would be correct," said Kerrigan. The two left the bridge together, bound for the armory. The geth followed behind, not questioning the lack of acknowledgement. _Ain't your moment anymore, man. _

"I'm surprised the protoss aren't just burning Ilos straight out," said Sarah as they rounded a corner, shouldering past several marines bound for the pods. "Glad, though. Destroying planets shouldn't be a first resort."

"Calculations indicate that the destruction of Ilos would bring no less than 15 separate governments a reason to declare war on the protoss," said the geth from behind. "Their chances of success in such a war, however, are unknown. Protoss capabilities appear extensive."

"I sure as hell ain't gonna fight 'em," said Jim, pausing to let the armory door slide open. To his happy surprise, his own black CMC armor was close by. "Bunch of ten foot tall, telepathic, teleportin' bastards. Suspect I'm gonna be feelin' sorry for the zerg pretty shortly."

"They will not respond to your sympathy," said the geth, making Jim roll his eyes as he pulled out a stool to stand in and began clambering into the armor.

Once he was inside, it was a matter of perfectly aligning his feet and hands into the clamps, testing the suit responses, and then running a few diagnostics to make certain the suit had been repaired properly. Mengsk's policies for the Sons of Korhal marines had generally skipped the last part, letting his soldiers ready their suits in the space of about a minute. _But I ain't about to do that. Not when I'm about to drop._

"Suit looks a bit scuffed," said Kerrigan, who Jim was now looking down at. She flicked the scarred left side of the armor. "Sure it will hold up?"

"All the important systems are green," said Jim, blinking continually to check all the readouts. Nodding, he grabbed a C14 from the closest weapons rack, gave it a cursory glance, nodded again. "I'm ready."

The portside drop pods were close, and Jim felt a pang of anxiety when he saw Jenny's bright pink armor inside the pod he chose. _Haven't spoken to her since Tarsonis._ It didn't stop him from heading in, though.

Jenny eyed Jim carefully as he locked his suit in place. "The boy scout's here." Her eyebrows raised as the geth and Kerrigan clambered in after them, Kerrigan offering her a nod. "Well shit! This should be a safe drop. Never got to ride with a ghost before." She sniffed. "Or… that thing."

"You're looking at your sniper team," said Kerrigan, winking at her. "Don't get too used to the sight of us. We're going to be playing it safe in the back."

Jenny chuckled. "Fair enough. Hey, Jim? We brought siege tanks, right?"

"All that we've got," grunted Jim, straining his neck to face Jenny, who was seated diagonally from himself. "I'd count more on the protoss for bringing the firepower. They're the ones with the fleet."

Jenny opened her mouth to say something back, but was cut off by the loudspeaker.

"Captain!" said Matt, sounding panicked. "Got a problem here. You already strapped in?"

Jim calmly patched into the bridge's frequency through his suit. "Strapped in and ready. Thought you told me you got this, Matt."

"A large force of ships just entered the system, sir," said Matt, this time back through the suit. "We got hailed by them. General Duke, General Victus, and a bunch of other ships besides. They're bound for the Citadel… once they've plowed through the protoss."

Before Jim could respond, Zeratul appeared literally from nowhere at the threshold of the drop pod, causing all of the marines to strain in their harnesses as the big bastard materialized.

"Apologies for the surprise, Captain," said Zeratul, this time speaking far more quickly than Jim was used to hearing him. "Tassadar will want your recommendation – he already has mine. The protoss stand ready to jump, but abandoning Chau Sara means losing the factory complexes below." Zeratul blinked and shrunk back slightly, looking very tired. "It would mean little to you, I'm sure, but the coming civil war will have tremendous ramifications. The Conclave bears you no good will. If Chau Sara falls, my own people will have to commit to Artanis's cause in the near future."

"That a problem?" asked Jim.

Zeratul cocked his head. "When shadows go to war, all living things shiver and tremble in fright. I would prefer to not see the Nerazim militarize. However, destroying the fleet arrayed before us could very well weaken the people we now seek to save." Zeratul offered a heavy sigh – again, Jim was not sure how that was possible. "You bear a grudge against both the zerg and Mengsk. I bid Tassadar to remain here and attempt diplomacy with the terrans. He said we should press on. I leave the decision to you – the captain of this vessel. Tassadar willed it. The other protoss, myself included, will follow."

_I am passin' that title on as soon as humanly possible._ Jim gritted his teeth. "Tell him to jump. If the zerg keep on like this, that civil war will be the least of your problems."

"The short term solution, then," said Zeratul, emotionless. "Relaying your order. Your ship will jump with us in seventeen seconds. We will see you on the battlefield, James Raynor. Though you may not see us." With that, Zeratul faded away, almost like a mirage being driven towards. Jim just shook his head.

"Startin' to think I should've shot Duke. Maybe Saren while I was at it. God knows he ain't gonna let 'em pass by without nuking the shit out of Chau Sara." Jim had to restrain himself from spitting. He knew from experience it would just land inside the suit and annoy him to no end.

"Now you're agreein' with me," grumbled Jenny, who nonetheless offered Jim a smile when he looked to her.

"Your choice was logical," said the geth. "Preparing for jump."

_Frankly the only opinion I care about here is Sarah's, but we'll have time for that later._

"Beginning jump!" rang out Tassadar's voice through the minds of all present. Jim was immediately thankful for this announcement because the entirety of the pod became bathed in blue light.

Jim, previously surrounded by heavy armor, now felt weightless. His breathing slowed with time. His head ponderously shifted to look to Sarah who was wearing a small smile on her face. Their eyes met. _A rare happy moment. Terran warp jumps just make me feel nauseous._ Jim smiled back.

Jim had no idea how long he sat there while the heavens whisked by, a small smile on his face. It didn't matter. When _Norad II _shuddered and klaxons began sounding, he was rudely reminded of what he had come here to do.

"All marines, prepare for drop!" said Matt, his voice trembling through the intercom – though whether it was from the effects of the protoss's warp or trepidation at what was to come was beyond Jim. The door connecting to the drop pod to the ship closed off with an abrupt clang, and Jim heard the engines beginning to warm up. Jim looked around to see the other marines letting their visors slide down. _Probably a good idea._

At the edge of Jim's hearing were the sounds of other pods being shot into battle – a distinct _ker-chunk_ that Jim always associated with vomit followed by human misery. _Hell, at least we'll finally be striking back against these bastards. Let's do this._

Jim's visor closed just in time for the drop pod to violently detach from the ship. Jim's teeth rattled inside his skull as the entire structure shook, and he could hear muffled cursing coming from his left. _Rangers roll, Rangers roll, Rangers roll…_

The deceleration was almost worse. Jim's very _thoughts_ felt flattened against the side of his skull as the pod made planetfall. The sudden slowing of sensation did little to alleviate Jim's distress – when he emerged from the pod, it would be to meet the zerg on the field of battle once more. _Except we'll finally be the aggressors; this ain't our world._

The drop pod stopped moving, and the rear hatch popped open, letting the previously well-muffled sounds of battle climb into the pod. _Gunshots, shrieks, and more of that electronic geth clicking. 'Bout what I expected._

"Gogogo!" screamed a marine from behind, prompting Jim to exit behind the geth and Kerrigan. Dropping neatly on to the planet's surface, Jim's initial impression was of how _rusty _it all was. The entire planet was covered in some kind of unhealthy tint – a faint red that Jim had seen gather all too many times on well-used and ill-maintained machinery. The second impression was rather occupied by the enormous field of shimmering light before his pod.

From the light emerged the protoss, hundreds strong, their warriors and machines arrayed before Jim. Their infantry stood shoulder to shoulder, proud, stiff, and tall. The machines towered above even them as well – great four-legged walkers clad in shining golden armor, some rotating spiked device below the chassis, sitting between all of the legs.

But what caught Jim's eye were the big ones. Many stories tall, seated on four spindly looking legs and shifting the guns mounted on their frames continually, were what Jim knew were the colossi.

"Mother of God…" he breathed. Seven of them stretched through the battle lines, and though he stood some distance from the vast death machines, it made him feel no safer. It took Sarah to shake him out of it.

"Fenix wants us, Jim," said Sarah, motioning him to move forward. "The rest of our forces are with him. We don't have long."

Jim followed, and found to his dismay that he was still shorter than most of the protoss even in his combat armor. When he found Fenix, his dismay went further as the protoss warrior had to crane his head to see his face.

"En taro Adun, terrans!" cried Fenix. "A glorious day to spill zerg blood! I see you have clad yourself in armor to make yourselves less puny. This is good. Tassadar bid me use your forces to provide ranged support while our zealots engaged. The enemy rages all around us; once battle is joined, there is no going back until the planet is cleansed. Have you made peace with your terran gods, assuming you have any?"

"If there's a God, he better be rootin' for us right now," said Jim. "Let's do this. Ent aro Adoon?"

"A fine attempt!" laughed Fenix before raising his hand. Ilos stilled for a moment – then he sliced it through the air with a bellow that shattered the still. "THE KHALA PROTECTS! FORWARD! KHASSAR DE TEMPLARI!"

Jim didn't have much choice. The protoss _surged_ around him, leaving him and his marines huddled together in a clump. They moved forwards as well, but they were more like pebbles in a stream than trusted allies at that point.

They ran, the ground sloping downhill, trying not to trip on the clumps of dirt the eager protoss were kicking up as they raced to meet their foe. When Jim looked behind him, it was to see siege tanks racing alongside the colossi and other walkers, and he felt the sudden urge to speed up. _Want to be well away from those things when the fighting starts._

From the front came a sudden uproar and clamor. Kerrigan and the geth stopped to either side of Jim, reaching for the weapons on their backs. _Great. It's my job to move up. _From behind, Jim heard the pounding of siege tank pontoons, indicating that the time for preparation and mobilization was over.

_Means only one thing._

"Stim up!" yelled Jim, pointing towards where the zealots were clumping, catching glimpses of both shining metallic figures and spiky little organisms. _Both at once. They better have thinned each other out._

Jim felt pressure in his neck, but it was soon overcome by the pounding of his overclocking heart. The marines and firebats behind him charged with him, guns glinting, all fear forgotten. _Naw. This is our hour._

This time, it was they who outpaced the protoss; the few straggling warriors in the back watched with a mix of awe and envy as the drugged up marines moved in a sudden frenzy. Jim flicked his eyes, letting the suit know which of the dancing silhouettes were friendly. Once the protoss were appropriately identified, he let the suit find a target. The readout flashed red, and he knew he was in range.

From behind the wall of protoss warriors, the marines formed a line. The firebats charged onwards, eager to wreak fiery havoc, but the marines had a higher destiny – that of monstrously effective fire support.

The C14's ripped the still and rusty air apart as their spikes hurtled towards the enemy. Jim didn't even hear his gun firing, just felt the recoil and saw the flash. The zerg line, previously tied up in engaging the protoss, was suddenly shattered by the hail of weapons fire. The smaller broke apart into pieces or were propelled backwards by the sudden volley, their shrieks rising even above the siege tanks as they followed suit.

"Push!" screamed Jim, advancing as the protoss line repelled the swarm of zerg. A wild grin on his face, he raced the rest of the way down the hill, clearing from the line of trees and into some square of ancient buildings. Vines covered everything, and Jim felt a slight chill of foreboding even through the bloodlust and drugs.

Fenix approached Jim through a crowd of his warriors, kicking aside a zerg corpse as he went.

"A fine display!" said Fenix, bowing his head in acknowledgement. "The zerg line is broken, and the geth retreated in the sight of our charge. Tassadar has identified a nearby hive cluster and demanded its destruction. Our own fleets are currently engaging the zerg in orbit."

"Lead the way, man," said Jim, shaking his head slightly from within the suit, feeling the stim's effects starting to withdraw. "Kerrigan, Legion geth guy, follow behind. You see a zerg on top of one of our guys, shoot it off."

Jim did not wait for the murmur of assent, instead choosing to follow the now-bloody protoss. From behind, their war machines lumbered forward.

"The geth wish to give battle!" cried Fenix suddenly, stopping before Jim after not having gone ten feet. "Some belligerent battalion to the northwest, obscured by the treeline. Witness the colossi, brave terrans. Witness our greatest triumph and greatest shame."

The colossi towered above the surrounding trees and ruined buildings, and they turned away from the bulk of the force to face some hidden enemy. They formed a concave in the ruins, standing still. _So, time to learn what kind of armament these things have. _Jim did not end up liking the answer.

The twin guns of the colossi fired suddenly, unleashing a sweeping yellow-orange blast that moved inwards, burning the ground. From somewhere beyond, Jim heard the screaming of machines subject to enormous amounts of heat.

All seven colossi fired without pause, over and over. Their beams lanced through the air, boiling it as they annihilated their unseen targets. When Jim looked to the people next to him, it was to find them just as transfixed by the machines as he was, the bright light of their weapons reflecting off of the visors. _Bet the firebats are loving this. Hell, wish Buck was here._

The colossi stopped as suddenly as they had started; the only indication of any slaughter having taken place was the smoke now rising ominously from the northwest. _Well, at least they're on our side._

"Tassadar did not unearth these machines lightly, James Raynor," said Fenix from behind him. When he turned, it was to find the normally energetic Praetor unusually solemn. "To turn these engines of death loose once more sickens us all, but the galaxy's woes demand it."

"Right," said Jim, not sure what to think. _How the hell do you stand against shit like that_?

This time, the protoss advanced more quietly, yet also more quickly than before. _Trying to put distance between themselves and their murder machines I guess. Can't blame 'em._

The combined forces advanced through the rust-colored air, their boots disturbing earth that had remained undisturbed for ages on end. Jim kept scanning, watching for any sign of zerg ambush.

He was not to be disappointed. The protoss around them _roared_ as, without warning, the air filled with mad hissing. With a groan, Jim slipped and had to right himself as he came face to face with a damned snakemantis. As he scrambled backwards, it raised its right talon – only to shriek in pain as, with a sudden blur of motion, it was severed cleanly.

The protoss warrior had appeared as if from nowhere, and followed up its crippling blow with several further strikes – with what, Jim had no idea, he could only see glowing blue outlines emerging from its wrists – causing blood to spray violently from the creature until it fell, smoking.

The protoss laughed and carried on, leaving Jim to pick up his rifle and breathe deeply. _Thought they had some kind of gun for close range combat. Nope. The protoss like to cut enemies apart with fucking swords. So much for technological advancement._

Jim's readouts were going mad; the fray around him was enormous. He picked targets and fired, hoping his targeting systems were good enough not to hit any allies. Gouts of flame erupted to his left as the firebats went to work. He himself stuck with his marines, helping free up the protoss warriors as they went to work against the zerg.

The siege tanks wisely did not enter siege mode, instead moving to provide closer fire support with their smaller cannons. The colossi, meanwhile, were making a mockery of terran targeting and IFF systems by cleanly sweeping away zerg without ever touching an ally.

Jim only caught glances of the protoss warriors as they went about their deadly work, but every glance was both beautiful and terrifying. The warriors moved as if made of water, every blow both powerful and precise. Their twin blades were visible only as glowing blurs; it was easier to track the weapons by the piles of zerg left behind rather than the protoss themselves. The only occasion Jim saw a protoss slow down was when one knocked a snakemantis to the floor and sat astride it while driving its blades into its belly over and over with a righteous fury.

If any fell, Jim did not see it. When he began wondering how the protoss dealt with air targets, he quickly cursed himself as a dark cloud began forming over the horizon. _Right. They don't just work on the ground._

"Templar! Form up!" cried Fenix. The protoss quickly fell back into battle positions, graciously allowing space for Raynor and his men. Fenix's voice then echoed through Jim's mind alone. "Your rifles are capable of engaging air targets?"

_Yeah. I'm guessin' your punch swords aren't?_

"Correct," said Fenix, unperturbed. "Our dragoons would prove an able match for these foes in small numbers… but in such swarms, we would require archons, and I am loath to sacrifice Templar if there are alternatives." _Weird. This guy's more coherent when in battle than in polite conversation. Still got no idea what he's sayin'._

Regardless, Jim lined up as the four legged walkers that were apparently dragoons joined his squad, casting a shadow over them. The cloud thickened and grew nearer. They brought their guns to the ready as their targeting systems notified them of a hundred-odd things to shoot at.

The dragoons shot first – something opened on the top of the machine where Jim couldn't see, and a great ball of blue energy flew out. Where it struck there was a small thunderclap and the fliers scattered, though none fell. The other dragoons followed suit, and within seconds the zerg were in range.

"Wax 'em!" yelled somebody close by, and Jim offered no argument. The bullets flew, striking the fliers everywhere – wings, head, body. They plummeted to earth with ungodly screams, small puffs of blood marking where their flight had been cut short. To Jim's surprise, just as they had fully closed the distance, what was left of the zerg fliers peeled off to either side and began falling backwards – _retreating._

"Holy shit," said Jim to himself. "We're gonna win this. And it ain't gonna be a contest."

"Raynor-Captain," said the synthesized voice of the geth-thing through Jim's helmet. "Protoss-terran allied forces experiencing victory throughout planet. However, bulk of enemy forces concentrated at following location: transmitting."

Jim blinked as the planet's layout appeared on his screen before zooming in. The location the geth pinpointed was not currently near any of their own forces.

"Alert: all enemy forces converging on single location. Limited hack of Heretic visual information indicates small mass relay present on Ilos. Relay matches that of a Citadel based relay. Ilos contains backdoor to the Citadel."

"That's the heart of the Council, right?" said Kerrigan.

"Correct," said the geth while Jim and his marines followed the still-advancing protoss. "Victories elsewhere irrelevant. Citadel may already be under siege. Recommend immediate withdrawal from current combat zone to redeploy at target location."

_Shit. Just as I was having fun._

"Fenix!" bellowed Jim, causing the protoss to stop. "Got a problem. We're fighting in the wrong place."

"If there be zerg here, I refuse to believe such a statement!" replied Fenix. "Still, opposition has not been thick. I find this suspicious. What say you, then?"

"They've got a backdoor into that Citadel – a teleporter, sort of," said Jim. "Look into my mind – the geth just gave me coordinates."

Fenix paused, staring into Jim's visor. His eyes flickered, and then narrowed.

"Udun! Bring your mothership to bear!" cried Fenix. "The following coordinates. We need dimensional recall." Fenix looked to Jim again. "Fear not, but remain weary. We will arrive amidst chaos."

"Smoke 'em if you got 'em," yelled Jim back to his people. Sure enough, he got a glimpse of a bloody Jenny lighting up a cigar.

For a few seconds, the protoss and terrans stood there together, almost feeling a bit stupid as nothing happened. Far on the horizon there was the occasional crack of what might have been thunder, a few flashes of red light. For those few seconds, all was still. It was broken by a spinning ball of energy appearing among them.

Jim did not get the chance to call out. All went black for the harshest of instants… followed by pandemonium.

They were dumped on the living ground the zerg were so fond of. Above him sat the largest fucking ship Jim had ever seen – a vast golden circle surrounded by spinning parts that Jim could only assume was the mothership. All around them were screams and gunshots, and past the crowd of allies Jim only saw zerg – and geth.

"Weapons free, weapons free!" screamed Jim, now more alarmed than he had ever been in his life. He stimmed up, his weapon trained on the nearest snakemantis, watching its face explode as he laid into it.

Jim felt rounds pinging off his armor and felt heat beginning to creep into the suit. Rounding violently, it was to find the geth peppering him with rounds. He fired burst after burst at the cover they hid themselves behind, showering the blasted synthetics with superheated rock until their barriers gave out. Jim roared out a challenge, only to sense movement behind him. When he turned again, it was to find himself face to face with a snakemantis – its face frozen in place, blood trickling from some wound.

Jim stepped back, and the snakemantis fell to the floor, blood pooling from its tremendous carcass. Zeratul stepped forward from nothing and bowed deeply.

"Adun toredas, James Raynor." He left just as suddenly. _Huh. Thanks I guess._

This time, instead of a line of protoss advancing on a horde of foes rushing to meet them, it was instead a circle of fierce fighters spreading outward. The creep blackened and burned as the protoss ran amok, the terrans mostly forgotten amidst their fury. Their war machine's weapons thundered and sizzled, drowning out the siege tanks.

The zerg structures, usually so far beyond the reach of Jim, now exploded and collapsed in enormous puddles of their own gore as the conflict finally reached them. Jim heard the other marines laughing as geth weapon's fire failed to punch through, as they laid waste to the creatures that had hounded them throughout the Koprulu Sector. Jim joined in, but was stopped by the sudden appearance of Zeratul.

"A pointless fight," he declared, striding through the ruined corpse of their enemies. He extended a thick finger towards the entrance to a nearby building. "The backdoor remains open. There is a large stretch of building beyond – an ancient complex, I suspect. It must be traversed quickly."

"Yeah?" asked Jim, a little angry that no one seemed to realize just how significant their victories were. _We're winnin' this, c'mon._ "What makes you say that."

"There is no Reaper here," said Zeratul simply. "Is that not the point?"

_Shit._ Jim looked toward the entrance, saw that the creep stretched inside it a great ways. "How quickly?"

"They will shut it behind them if you grow close," said Zeratul, sounding quite certain. "We are an unwelcome presence. An unplanned presence. When the protoss go to war, we do not move swiftly."

Jim sighed. "Darlin'? We need to get into that old complex. I think we're gonna need vultures. Do you sense anything in there?"

"Zerg," said Kerrigan shortly, sounding a little out of breath. "They're moving with purpose… away from us? What the hell is going on?"

"We're a little late to the party," said Jim, wondering how the hell killing zerg had ever become low priority. "Geth, how important is killing this Reaper thing?"

"Paramount," came the geth's reply. "A Reaper-Heretic victory will extinguish all space-faring life within the span of a few centuries. The galaxy cannot currently mount an effective defense. We must reach that relay."

Jim shook his head. "Matt! Send as many Vultures as you can. Alright, gonna need some volunteers."

Matt was prompt in response, despite only giving a terse reply back. Jim had no idea how extensive the orbital resistance was, but it must have been heavy; the protoss seemed the type to trumpet their victory. Four dropships arrived and lowered their ramps, revealing four Vultures apiece. Jim and his volunteers had already exited their suits, and Sarah was the first to grab her vehicle.

"Mount up!" called out Sarah, and they hustled to do so.

Zeratul appeared again before Jim, extending a large hand ahead of himself to halt Jim's progress.

"Tell Kerrigan to call for Tassadar when we are needed at the Citadel," said Zeratul. He looked around. "This planet is old and deserving of respect. Cleansing, even unnecessary cleansing, cannot be a crime."

"Right," said Jim, now officially winging the operation. "If that comes up, you got it."

"Raynor-Captain," called out the geth, running to the side of Jim's Vulture. "We thank you for your assistance. Move with speed."

Jim didn't bother to respond. He raced ahead, almost side by side with Kerrigan. The complex stretched far ahead of them, an ample amount of empty space. Jim almost ended up enjoying himself, until they reached the first geth blockade.

Strange hexagonal shields had been set up, and a large quadruped geth sat behind them. Their heads, attached to the body by long necks, stretched up as the Vultures approached, and its eye glowed as it shot some kind of projectile.

The first blast flew over Jim and filled the long darkened complex with blue light. Jim winced as a rattling boom echoed from behind him, taking out probably too many Vulture pilots. Jim fired the grenade launcher once, blasting through the shields and zipping by, no longer enjoying himself even remotely.

"Try to keep up!" shouted Kerrigan back at him as she took the lead, rifle still strapped to her back. Jim didn't bother looking behind to see how bad the damage was, choosing instead to zip forward.

At the next barricade, the surviving pilots had the sense to veer out of the way. This time Kerrigan blasted the way through and they did not pause, passing by the geth without issue. The zerg's foul blight no longer coated the complex, and Jim passed numerous bodies as he pressed further in. _Nice to see someone else takin' on those bastards._ This did not reassure Jim for very long. The next barricade seemed at first to be only a simple line of geth – but they opened fire the very instant they were in range.

Jim grunted as he felt an impact on his leg, but managed to stay on the bike. From the shouts behind him, he could tell others were not so lucky. When he glanced down, it was to see blood pulsing from the wound steadily. _Shit. Why'd I agree to this? Shouldn't have left the armor..._

The geth scattered as Kerrigan barreled through them, heedless of the gunfire. Jim followed, grimacing as the pressure on his leg began graduating to pain.

The endless hallways and geth gave way suddenly – and Jim was left breathless for reasons other than just being shot. _Not many people gonna get to see this._

A spinner sat in the middle of a grand courtyard, a beam of incandescent light propelled from its center and into the sky. Geth and zerg alike fought at the front of it, though Jim witnessed silhouettes parting from the battle and diving into the light throughout.

Kerrigan was screaming at him to get moving again, and Jim knew just where they were headed. He looked behind to see only three Vultures remaining. He felt his good leg and found his pistol there. _I'm ready._

Jim pressed hard on the bike, causing it to shoot forward at unhealthy speeds. He followed Kerrigan, dodging between roaring zerg and clicking geth as they continued their battle, almost heedless of the intrusion. Jim gunned up the steps, saw Kerrigan vanishing into the light. He didn't have time to hesitate.

His form parted from his bike as he crossed the lip. For a moment, he was weightless again. Then he was propelled up, up, up, and into unconsciousness.

Time passed. Jim knew this. He could feel his chest expanding as he drew breath over and over. There was a faint haze of pain, and he could hear shouting. At one point there was hair in his mouth, and he spat it out. It was only when he felt searing hot pain in his leg that he properly came to, starting upright with a whimper.

His surroundings were colored white, but it was all cast in a harsh orange glow. Flames danced nearby, and for a second, Jim wondered if this was hell.

"No," said Kerrigan, causing Jim to scream as she pressed down on the wound. "Citadel."

"Great," panted Jim, gritting his teeth as Kerrigan pressed down again. "Where's the Reaper?"

"You'll see it soon enough," said Kerrigan, pulling herself away from Jim and pulling out a syringe filled with green liquid. "This will get you back on your feet, but your leg is pretty bad. You're going to need more medical attention when this is done."

"Got a Reaper to kill first, right?" said Jim, trying to hold still as Kerrigan flicked the syringe before nodding. Fortunately, the unknown cocktail contained some kind of painkiller, so the initial pain was followed by comfort. "Anyone else make it? Shit, that's good…." The pain faded, and the wound began to knit itself shut. _They let ghosts carry high quality nanites like that around all the time?_

"Depends on the mission," said Kerrigan, pulling Jim upwards. His feet were unsteady at first, but leaning against a nearby scorched pillar helped. "No, no one else. And you're not in the best shape."

"I'm fine," said Jim, staggering forward. The pain had receded to a dull throb. "Alright. How do we stop this?"

"The Tower," said Kerrigan, sounding quite certain. "Read the mind of a dying alien – volus I think. He said we need control of the Tower." She unshouldered her gun. "Let me take the lumps, okay Jim? This armor is tougher than it looks."

Jim grunted in affirmation, following Kerrigan. The place was strewn with bodies – zerg, geth, turians, asari, and some Jim didn't recognize. The ceiling above them was high and dark – Jim didn't know just how much space was above him.

"Place is big," said Jim, struggling to keep up. "How'd they build it?"

Kerrigan looked back, her face hard. "They didn't."

Rounding a corner, they found a handful of corpses stacked before an elevator. The smell from them was awful, and Jim gagged once, twice, and then threw up. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he waved off Kerrigan's outstretched hand.

"Looks like they were gunned down from that elevator," said Kerrigan, pointing. Despite this, she still walked up to the elevator and pressed the button. It slid open without fuss.

"Sure it ain't a trap?" said Jim, stepping gingerly around the bodies and almost collapsing against the glass walls.

Kerrigan just shrugged, and then tapped the highest room on the layout of the elevator. The doors shut with a hiss, and the elevator rose smoothly.

"Gonna need you to call out for Tassadar at some point," said Jim, wiping sweat from his brow, a little more vomit from his mouth. "Not sure what the situation is, but I'm pretty sure this place ain't supposed to be on fire.

"Yeah." Kerrigan looked up. The elevator was picking up speed. "I think we're just in time."

The elevator slowed, and the doors shot open. Beyond them was an enormous room, purple in tint, with many stairs rising towards a single point. Kerrigan moved forward first, checking all corners and finding nothing. She motioned for Jim to follow and he did, slipping his gun from his holster and covering her advance.

The place was strewn with bodies, mostly zerg and turian. _Karma, maybe. For Tarsonis. _Jim shook his head. _No. No one deserves this._ The pain had subsided, and Jim ascended the steps with surety.

At the head of the Tower, at the top of the steps, there stood a figure, fumbling with a glowing computer interface. The figure stopped as they reached the final staircase, closing the interface and turning with a snarl.

"Bear witness, terrans!" shrieked the creature. "We, those of the Zerg Swarm, the shatterers of worlds and armies, bane of your governments, WE are your salvation!"

Jim's eyes widened, but he did not lower his gun. "Never thought I'd talk to a zerg," he said back, aiming his sight at the creature's head. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I knew you were coming!" spat back the creature. "I, Daggoth, welcome your presence! Look outside, James Raynor and Sarah Kerrigan, and tell me what you see!"

Behind the creature was a vast set of windows. Jim looked beyond them… and saw a gleaming vessel, enormous in scope.

"The Reapers almost claim all!" screamed the creature. "The prothean machine grants us access to stop it. The protheans trusted US, the zerg!" Through the dim light, Jim could see the creature bearing its gleaming teeth. "We are the inheritors of their legacy! I claim it, now, and forever. The arms open. I do this for you."

Light streamed through the windows, and shone on the Reaper. From beyond, flashes of light could be seen. _A distant battle. What the hell happened here?_

"Destroy the Reaper," said the zerg, now sounding gleeful. "Claim victory, but know that it is fleeting! It comes…" The creature spasmed and contorted, falling to the floor and writhing. Jim looked to Kerrigan, unsure of whether to shoot. She shook her head. When the creature ceased its seizure, its eyes had filled with some malevolent light.

**"This galaxy is ours," **said a voice from beyond the zerg creature. Jim felt chills run down his entire being. **"It must be so. The Reapers bring extinction. The zerg promise life. We must unite."**

"I ain't seen much of these Reapers," said Jim. "But you bastards are everywhere. And I seen what you done."

**"You fear us," **said the zerg. **"It is understandable, but irrelevant. There can be only one song; the silence of the Reapers, or the hymns of the Overmind. Our influence grows. The strength of the protoss begins to wane. Claim your victory here, if you can. Resist us, if you must. Know that this is a war of gods; your struggles are meaningless." **The zerg turned to Kerrigan. **"Once, your existence would have excited us. But I have found another way. You are redundant. We would claim you gladly, had we the time. But the Amon made clear that the cycle would not be averted for much longer than now. Kill the Reaper. And prepare to bear witness." **The zerg stiffened, screamed, and fell. This time it stayed still.

"I think we just talked to whatever's tellin' the zerg to kill everyone," said Jim, looking to Kerrigan. She strode forward and fired twice into the creature's head, painting the floor underneath crimson. It didn't respond.

"I'm inclined to agree." Sarah peered out the window. "The Citadel was closed before. The zerg opened it. They want that Reaper to die." She shrugged. "Not sure how we're going to do it." Her eyes narrowed as a voice crackled from the console.

"If you're gonna ping us, at least say somethin' you goddamn alien moron. General Edmund Duke ain't got time for these shenanigans. What the hell is goin' on?"

_Great._ Jim spat on the zerg corpse. When Kerrigan shot a look his way, he shook his head. _You can handle this._

"General, this is Kerrigan," said Sarah. "Do you read me?"

"What? How the hell did you get there?" Duke sounded more angry than surprised. "I've got ships all over, shootin' at each other and – oh for fuck's sake. The protoss just showed up." Kerrigan gave Jim a guilty grin while Duke paused before continuing his tirade. "Listen girlie, I don't like bein' out here. I don't like aliens. And I don't like you. I've parked 400 ships on the edge of this battle, but I ain't got a clue what I'm supposed to do with 'em."

"Hello?" Victus was now on the line. "Citadel Tower? Where's the Council? I was told the geth were with us – and who in the Spirits owns that giant ship?"

"General?" Jim's spirits rose. _He'll listen._ "General, this is Captain Jim Raynor. The situation is complicated, but I need you to listen very closely. Do _not_ fire on the protoss. Take out the big ship."

"He ain't the one with the armada, hick," said Duke. "And I've got orders to string you up on sight. Why the hell should I listen to you?"

"Otherwise the galaxy ends," said Jim, simply. "Now, I know you think me simple, but do I strike you as a liar?"

There was a pregnant pause.

"Duke?" said Jim. "Victus?" The line was dead. Jim limped to the nearest pillar and slumped against it, sliding down into a sitting position. Kerrigan was waiting at the console, lips pursed.

"They're deliberating," said Sarah, shrugging. "It's out of our hands now, Jim. To an extent, it always was." She walked over and sat next to him, taking a hand in hers and giving it a squeeze.

"If it's the end of the world," he said, head turning to face her, a wry smile on his face even as the darkness started to descend again, "there are worse exits than this." _God help us. Duke. Victus… please._


	32. Diplomacy

**Adrien**

General Duke's fleshy face filled the vidscreen to Adrien's left, causing his mandibles to shift from a concerned and worried expression to that of loathing. His entire being tightened at the sight of the man, who looked back at him with equal disgust. For a moment, the carnage ensuing in front of the Citadel left the forefront of Adrien's mind.

"Is this normal?" Duke asked, sounding half-mocking. "I was told this was one of the most secure places in Council space. Don't look like it to me. You hear Raynor and Kerrigan?"

"I heard," said Adrien wearily. _Spirits know how they got here ahead of us, but they probably have a better idea of what is going on from the Citadel Tower than we do here, on the outskirts._ _Still, that line about the galaxy ending seemed rather melodramatic. _"It is hard to recognize who opened hostilities here… though it is clear that we will have to be the ones to end it." _Or failing that, the protoss._

Duke sucked on his cheek, looking thoughtful in a kind of vacant, animal fashion. Adrien took the time to check the LADAR again. The Council Defense Forces were holding their own against the geth invaders, but had sent panicked messages to him about a zerg presence on the Citadel. _And that… should be impossible._ _But it would explain the protoss._

The protoss ship signatures were enormous and bearing directly for the largest geth ships. Adrien had considered attempting to contact them, but was stopped by the memories of the last time he had witnessed protoss diplomacy in action. _Spirits, what if they burn down the Citadel?_ _If zerg are in there, there's likely no reasoning with them!_

"Hick don't seem the type to lie," said Duke, shrugging, "but it don't change what needs doing. We already took out their little camp on Chau Sara, this is just cleanup."

"Hold, General!" snapped Adrien, turning to face Janus beside him. His fellow general bore an upright posture and his face was still, his eyes glued to the screen. "Do not be hasty. Janus – what are you thinking?"

"I am thinking that this battle should not be decided by the terrans," said Janus. "They are newcomers here; they ventured from their sector to provide relief and establish diplomatic ties. They are not yet a Council race in full, regardless of the number of ships they have brought to bear."

"I can hear you two," said Duke, folding two hairy forearms and glaring down at them. "By that logic, ya'll shouldn't listen to Raynor, neither. Now I'll admit – I'm not sure what the hell's goin' on, and I ain't gonna relish testing myself against those mouthless planet-destroying bastards again. But I got my orders. Ya'll better give me a good reason not to follow 'em."

Adrien looked behind him. Lieutenant Arterius stood there, eyes narrowed, staring intensely at the LADAR signatures – the protoss ones in particular. _Hardly spoken a word since Tarsonis, but still he clings to that hatred. It's understandable; it is hard to forget _Relentless.

"Lieutenant," said Adrien, drawing the attention of all surrounding crewman, "I need an honest answer from you."

Saren's eyes met Adrien's, and he gave the tersest of nods.

"Jim Raynor," said Adrien, immediately causing Saren to stiffen, "you among us knew him best. I spoke with the man a few times, but never fought alongside him. Answer me truthfully: is he trustworthy? Is he trustworthy enough for me to consider heeding his words?"

Saren's mandibles twitched, and Adrien saw an unfamiliar look of uncertainty drift across his face. It was gone in an instant, however.

"Jim Raynor never gave me cause to doubt either his words or his character," said Saren, sounding slightly bitter. "Deception is not in his nature." _That's all I needed._

"General, you risk diplomatic incident if you fire on those protoss vessels," said Adrien, trying to inject as much authority and contained anger as possible. "Raynor and Kerrigan have given us no reason to distrust them, and they are likely responsible for opening the Citadel's arms in any case. Direct your forces to engage the ship on the Tower."

"I'm sorry, who is in charge of this here armada? Do _you_ feel in charge?" Duke chuckled. Strangely, his face fell shortly after this, and he started continually glancing off-screen. _Someone else giving him orders?_

"I speak with the authority of the Turian Hierarchy," said Adrien, hoping to capitalize on this sudden uncertainty. "You are in _our_ space after we won _your_ war. You will leave the protoss forces be and engage the enemy vessel."

"Would you shut up?!" yelled Duke – not to Adrien, but at someone off-screen. "Goddamit, alright! Alright! I'm moving the cruisers. All ships, prep Yamato guns, that thing is enormous."

Duke's screen winked out, and Adrien knew it was not because of his own authority. _Who'd they bring with them? Mengsk? Doubtful. That man shows his face on the Citadel, he'd "somehow" end up floating in a protein vat before the day was out._

"Third fleet, support the terrans," called out Adrien. "Stay well out of the protoss way and do not engage the geth." Adrien checked the LADAR. "The protoss are already engaging the geth, so that's… handled." The LADAR signatures were a swarm of ship signatures climbing in and out of the protoss's large vessels. To the geth's credit, many of these smaller ships were taking damage from their point defense systems. To the protoss's credit (and Adrien's growing concern) the geth ships were still imploding only seconds after being targeted by the swarm of fighters.

Only one protoss vessel was ignoring the action. The largest ship was instead bound for the Citadel Tower, just as they were. _Marvelous._ Adrien looked back to Saren.

"Thank you, lieutenant. It's nearly over." Adrien didn't wait for a response, instead choosing to look at the signature of the ship they were about to destroy. _Or perhaps not. Were it not for the protoss vessel inching towards it, I would have declared that ship the largest I had ever seen._ The combined terran/turian force was closing the distance rapidly.

"Picking up a great many requests for help," reported an aide. "The geth attack must have been sudden. Some of these SOSs are coming from turian ships-"

"This is bigger than the Hierarchy alone," said Adrien. "Do not divert. Prep_ Momentum's _guns." They were now inside the arms… and in range of the enormous vessel.

"Engage."

_Momentum _shuddered as the gun began unloading. Adrien nodded stiffly to himself, satisfied at something going right for once. _Dreadnought fire should handle this – should at least cripple the vessel. Terrans can handle the rest._ The terran ships were still accelerating, their loose formation bearing directly for the tower. Seconds after firing, an aide reported a hit.

"Calculations were accurate, still firing, direct hits on the starboard of the ship!" the aide paused as something else was shouted at him. Adrien caught a snippet of what was being said and felt his heart sink. "Sir… they're reporting no damage. Sir, the vessel is-"

"Spirits!" cried a flight officer. One of the LADAR signatures in the terran fleet winked out. Then another one.

"It's shooting back, General," said the aide, trying to hide his panic. "We shouldn't be in range but-"

"Get me a visual," said Adrien, sighing. _Does every single alien force we come against _have_ to be completely invincible? The terrans seem to be the sole exception._

The LADAR scans were replaced by a glowing image of the ship they were firing at. In all honesty, the first thing Adrien was put in mind of were the crustaceans Tarquin would occasionally catch on his fishing trips. It bore a similar looking carapace and had several… legs on either side. The hindmost "legs" were firing distressingly accurate and powerful beams at his allies, even as it was continually partially obscured by the impact of _Momentum's _projectiles.

"Fine, yes, shrug off those impacts!" said Adrien angrily, ignoring the worried reactions of his crew. "Do we need to ram you as well?"

Almost in response, the ship shifted, its right side suddenly alight with weapon's fire. _Ah, the yamatos._ The ship buckled, a gaping hole appearing in its starboard hull, its legs twitching as the barrage from the terran fleet continued to batter it. Its tendrils waved, firing back at the terrans. _Maybe they'll take each other out?_

"A worthy fight!" declared a voice in Adrien's mind. Every viewscreen had changed into a helmeted protoss's face. "I am Praetor Udun, currently piloting the large protoss vessel! We share the same target. Witness the fury of Aiur, but dispel all violent notions towards us! We did not come to conquer."

The image winked out as quickly as it had come. The large, spherical protoss vessel was now within the Citadel, and it was adjusting itself, turning itself onto its side to point the rear at the enemy ship.

"Still firing, no effect," reported an aide, if anything seeming to find relief in at least one thing remaining consistent. "Terrans punched a hole in it, though. And that was just the first cruisers in range, others are still repositioning-"

"I think the protoss have this one," said Adrien, shaking his head in disbelief, relief, and resignation.

The protoss ship's LADAR signature flared. In but a few moments later, an enormous beam of light lanced towards the image of the enemy ship. It struck the hull from the port side, never touching the parts of the Tower the ship was clinging to. Silently, the turians watched together as the ship shuddered once, twice, and then detached from the tower, the beam melting away the outer plating.

The vessel drifted free, the beam following it. With a final, almighty convulsion, the ship was penetrated fully by the protoss's light. The energy passed through it entirely, and the ship split into fragments, each drifting away from the force that had killed it. _Great. Its death throes will likely wreak further havoc._ To his surprise, the beam continued to pursue the remnants of their slain foe, melting the parts into their component atoms. Some were missed, to be sure, but it was a relieving gesture on the protoss's part.

As if to undermine this, the protoss commander's head had reappeared on the screens.

"Ha! We will have to research that ship's plating. Few things can withstand the Planet Cracker for any length of time." _Wonderful. The protoss is exuberant in the wake of using such weaponry, and mildly curious about the monstrosity it just destroyed. The prospects of the Hierarchy levelling the playing field are becoming increasingly dim. We're going to need a lot more dreadnoughts. _

"We're being hailed, General," said the aide, now sounding breathless. "It's Duke."

The protoss had vanished again, and the monstrous ship it piloted was beginning its slow retreat. Adrien waved a hand. "Put the idiot on screen."

Duke's forehead was now slick with sweat, and the arrogance that he bore earlier now seemed tempered with… something else. _Not fear, exactly, but a certain presence of mind._

"General," Duke said stiffly. "Your target is destroyed. With permission, we're gonna swing 'round and start pickin' up survivors. The ah, diplomat Emperor Mengsk sent, he would like to board the Citadel. Can you give us a place to dock?"

_The diplomat. I guess I have him – or her – to thank for this shift in behavior._

"I need to clear the situation with the Council," said Adrien. "I am going to attempt to reestablish contact with the Tower. Stand by."

"Sendin' my ships on their rescue runs," said Duke, sounding distinctly unhappy. "Let me know when you've got an answer."

"Helmsman, ping the tower," said Adrien, noting a distinct air of amusement running through the bridge. _Better than the fear of a few minutes ago. _"See if we can at least talk to Kerrigan. She might have a better idea of what's going on."

There were a few seconds of silence while the helmsman attempted to reestablish contact. Adrien took the time to look back to Saren, who was still staring at the LADAR sullenly. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"You wanted the truth," said Saren. He didn't say anything more. _I don't have time for this. _Adrien returned his attention to the LADAR screen. Most of the geth ships were being steadily eaten by the protoss vessels. _So now they're helpful. Wonderful._ Adrien was drawn away from these thoughts as the helmsman yelled something about the Tower. _We got through?_

"_Momentum_, Citadel Tower," said a high, breathless voice. _Salarian. Odd._ "Read you. Ship outside destroyed, at least three wards damaged. What is status?"

"The protoss are here," said Adrien. "We're fine, the battle is ending. Where's the Council?"

"Safe," said the voice. "Was prepping STG force here on Citadel. Took Council to secure location. Can bring here, if you like."

"If you would," said Adrien, a little suspicious. "You alone? Anyone else in the Tower?"

There was a sharp breath. "No. Two terrans slumped against pillar. Can check for life signs as well. Stand by." Adrien, to his surprise, actually felt rather concerned. _The only thing that took the sting of Tarsonis away was letting him and Kerrigan escape. Don't let that be in vain._

"Alive," reported the salarian. "Am trained doctor. Unfamiliar with physiology, but saw records given by Mengsk. Exhaustion in both male and female, blood loss and some shock in male. Vital signs minimal. Can treat, or grab Council. Prefer to treat, but defer to you. Orders?"

_The STG trains doctors to kill? Never was good at anticipating salarians._ Adrien looked once more to Saren, and saw that he was watching him intently. _It will be interesting to see your reaction._

"We'll land at the closest ward," said Adrien. "The Council can wait. I want those terrans alive, doctor. We'll make our way up." Saren's face shifted at these words. _Relief. Strained, but there. So he still cares for them. He did not accompany them_ _to the surface, but still holds them in esteem. Interesting._

"Of course, General," said the salarian. "Can radio associate for delayed pickup. Council will be waiting. Watch for zerg."

The line went dead. Adrien relayed coordinates to General Duke (thankfully without having to speak to the man) and tried to contain his relief. _Finally back in friendly territory. Found it besieged, but that problem basically took care of itself._ _I'm almost looking forward to getting court martialed for the loss of Third Fleet – I can finally leave all this "politician" crap behind. Bust me back down to private, let me fight for Palaven properly._

"Janus, I'm giving you the deck," said Adrien as _Momentum _began docking procedures. "Lieutenant Arterius, with me." The two of them walked to the airlock in silence. Turian marines had gathered to either side of the door, their leader giving Adrien a clear hand gesture to let them sweep and clear beforehand. When the airlock door hissed open, causing smoke to billow forth from the Citadel, Adrien let them do that. They crossed the threshold eagerly while their squadmates covered them from the entrance. Adrien watched Saren carefully while they went about it.

_He's tense, ready to unleash biotics. Good. Angry, too. Appropriate, I was aboard _Relentless_ as it went down, it's hard to see those bastards as allies. And worried. What happened on Tarsonis? He said Raynor and Kerrigan rescued him. What else transpired? _

"All clear, General!" called back the captain, Kryik. Adrien entered the Citadel with the disinterested air of a man who had seen too many impossible things in too short a span of time. The normally immaculate and well-lit part of the wards they had landed in was strewn with bodies from too many races count, and the air was thick with smoke.

"The terrans will be coming out of that bulkhead," said Adrien, pointing. "Their diplomat will be with them. Let's get a good look at the terran that stopped Duke firing on the protoss." Saren shot him a dirty look for this, but Adrien was not in the mood for caring. _Not on a day like this. The Citadel's burning, the protoss are moving about the galaxy with impunity, and this is probably my last day as a general._

When the airlock hissed open, Adrien was not surprised to see several of the terran's power armored marines come strolling out. While he didn't recognize the armor (the visors were shaded blue, the armor itself was a fair bit bulkier, and moreover was colored silver) it was still the terran marine he was used to. What he _was_ surprised by, however, was the politician him/herself emerging from the airlock in the same armor, flanked by a pair of lanky looking soldiers in full body suits. _Ghosts, I think. Similar to what Kerrigan wore._

The politician strode forward towards Adrien, his boots clunking heavily against the metal of the Citadel's floor. The visor slid back, revealing the weathered and graying face of an older terran, roughly Mengsk's age.

"Donnel Udina, ambassador for the Umojan Protectorate," he declared in short tones. "I am here to represent terran interests for both the Dominion and my own people." He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "It appears I chose a poor time for it. Nevertheless, we will assist with reconstruction however possible."

"Umojan Protectorate?" said Saren, sounding as confused as Adrien felt. Irritation flashed across the ambassador's face.

"There is more to the terran people than the Dominion and Confederacy," said Udina. "Mengsk has long-standing ties to the Protectorate leadership. Moreover, he claimed he needed our ships. So here we are."

"Those ships outside aren't all Mengsk's?" asked Adrien, trying to keep any hint of relief out of his voice. Again, Udina looked annoyed.

"How Mengsk can stand to let that ragtag band of hired mercenaries and double re-socialized soldiers to represent the terran people is beyond me." He gave a shrug of his massive shoulders. "But it seemed to have had you fooled, so I suppose it worked... even if I have no time for it. No, only about a third of those ships owe complete allegiance to the Dominion. Protectorate make up the majority, though the Blue Suns also accompany us." Udina looked particularly pleased at this. _Mengsk sent a nationalist that isn't even part of his nation._

"Interesting," said Adrien, actually meaning it. He gestured to the ruins of the Presidium. "I apologize for the mess – the Citadel has never been attacked in our history. This is as much a surprise to us as it is to you. We are still needed in the Tower."

"Of course." Udina looked to one of his ghosts. "All clear?"

"Citadel Security has moved in force," said the ghost, his voice a wheeze. "This area has been secured." The masked face turned to Adrien. "And I am a Shadowguard, a volunteer. Do not compare us to the brainwashed psychotics."

"I would hardly call Kerrigan psychotic," said Adrien, making a note to warn the Council that their new councilor had brought mind readers with him. "Lead the way."

The Umojan marines moved forward, accompanied by the silent forms of the Shadowguards. Udina remained behind with the turians, towering above them in his armor. The smoke seemed to be dying down around them, and numerous C-Sec skycars were buzzing through the air, lights flashing. _Good. Contain the damage._

"Why did Mengsk send you?" asked Adrien, causing Udina to frown. Regardless, he gave an answer both willingly and quickly.

"I have known Mengsk and his family for quite some time," said Udina. "The Protectorate has always had Korhal sympathies. And Mengsk has… ties, to the prominent Pasteur family. If we were speaking of anyone but Mengsk, I could even call myself a friend of his. But seeing who we are speaking about, I will have to settle for naming myself an acquaintance. That might even be a bit generous."

"Yes," said Adrien, mostly to himself. "I can see that."

"The Protectorate has an interest in establishing diplomatic ties with your Council," continued Udina. "The price of our support to his Dominion was simple: the terran representative would have to be Umojan. My longstanding ties with the Mengsk family made me the best compromise."

"Mengsk is getting awfully openhanded," said Adrien. Udina just gave back a small shake of the head, apparently done speaking. _He makes the Dominion – and Mengsk – sound far weaker than how they are presenting themselves. I think he's doing that on purpose._

Adrien had only visited the Presidium once before, to accept a commendation from Sparatus for his actions on Taetrus. He hadn't been terribly impressed at the falseness of the place – everybody smiled, the sky overhead was projected, and the place gleamed. _Yet here you can find a statue for the krogan still, even as their race dies. In a way, I'm glad the war was brought here._ While the terrans made disgusted noises as they stepped over the scorched bodies of fallen zerg and the dismembered corpses of C-Sec officers and politicians alike, Saren and Adrien paid them scarcely any mind. _It's callous, but we've seen worse. _

They were flagged down by a pair of turian C-Sec officers halfway to the elevator they had chosen that would take them to the tower. They gave puzzled looks to the terrans and instead addressed Adrien.

"Didn't pick a great time for this, general," said one officer, sounding surprisingly deadpan. "The geth burned up the place pretty badly – though to be fair that was mostly after the zerg arrived. Tried to turn them all in for disorderly conduct. Didn't work out."

"Shape up!" said the other turian, saluting the general. "Officers Talid and Vakarian reporting, sir! Situation has been contained."

"He's the one you should be saluting," said Adrien, gesturing to the imposing figure of Udina. "That's the terran's councilor. You don't report to me."

"Councilor," said Talid, inclining a head to Udina. "We have restored control of the Presidium, and the Council has been returned to the Tower. STG and C-Sec strike teams have restored control of the Kithoi and Zakera wards and are pushing on the other three. Zerg organisms have gone to ground, however, and we are experiencing reports of infested keepers, of all things. The tunnels are not secure."

"You have done an admirable job," said Udina, not sounding even slightly confused, which was a feat. "Now, we need to get to the Tower."

"Not in our car," said Officer Vakarian. "Not in those suits. They can bear the weight, but not the size. You go everywhere in those?"

"No." Udina looked irked. "We shall continue on our way, then. Let the Council know we will be there shortly. Keep up the good work."

"Let us know if you have any turian versions of that armor to spare," said Vakarian, giving Udina's suit an almost lustful look. Adrien hoped the councilor was still unfamiliar with turian expressions. "It could help with cleanup."

No one in their little party deigned to respond, though Saren did mutter something disapprovingly under his breath as the two parted. When they reached the chosen elevator, it was to find C-Sec officers stacking bodies to either side of it.

"Casualties appear high," said Udina with the casual air of someone commenting on the weather. "I hope Duke doesn't half-ass those rescue efforts. He's on thin ice with myself and Mengsk already."

"Thin ice?" said Adrien, confused.

"Ah, human idiom." Udina paused for a moment. "Duke is, ah, dangerously close to being unceremoniously executed for the loss of _Norad II_ and the defection of much of its crew. I believe Mengsk is half-heartedly hoping this expedition will kill him." Udina sniffed. "I, on the other hand, am full-heartedly hoping for his death. He inspires neither confidence nor compassion, though the man is unmatched on terran ground warfare strategy, I will concede that."

_Good thing we caught him in the air back on Antiga Prime, then._

Waving the C-Sec officers aside, Udina clumsily exited his suit before entering the elevator, accompanied only by his Shadowguards, Saren, and Adrien himself. The remaining Umojan marines grabbed Udina's armor and hauled it off on their shoulders while Adrien's soldiers and the C-Sec officers just watched.

"Men, return to the ship," said Adrien. "I'll try to return as soon as able." The turians left without a word.

The ride up was brief. Saren and Adrien stayed on one side of the elevator while the terrans remained on the other, craning their heads to watch through the glass.

The Citadel Tower was not how Adrien remembered it. Aside from the bodies of keepers, geth, zerg, and C-Sec officers, the entire place was covered in scorch marks and it appeared several of the trees had been either burnt down or destroyed by weapons fire. Nevertheless, the soft light and numerous staircases remained, preserving some semblance of safety. The large number of armed salarians helped as well.

One, clad in white armor and missing a horn, stepped forward to greet them.

"Ah, General, Councilor, good to see you." The salarian spoke in clipped tones and appeared entirely unperturbed by his grim surroundings. "Council waits, Kirrahe kind enough to retrieve. Auspicious day – geth attack Citadel, terrans finally arrive on Citadel, protoss repulse attack." He took a sharp breath. "Exciting!"

"That is one word for it, yes," said Adrien, a little incredulous. "You're with the STG then, doctor…?"

"Mordin Solus," said the salarian, motioning for them to follow. "Salarian Union little to contribute against zerg militarily – small fleet, zerg do not use computers. STG dispatched to assist Council in areas better suited to salarians – bio warfare, primarily, also predicting zerg attacks." Mordin took another breath. "Alarming developments. Been looking at Thresher Maw sightings, dispatching teams to eliminate nests. Zerg will attempt to infest, must curtail."

"That… sounds like a good idea." Adrien had to suppress a shudder. Entire turian companies had disappeared without warning down the gullets of Thresher Maws. Zerg infestation would probably not make the creatures any less deadly. "Did the geth attack first? I was under the impression they were our allies."

"Yes!" said Mordin. "Attacked without warning! Curious though, limited numbers of geth on Citadel already. Two engaged in infighting. Possible division in Consensus. Worth examining."

"One more thing," said Adrien, a little halting. "The terrans… Raynor and Kerrigan. Are they okay?"

"At the top," said Mordin, nodding. "Kept safe. Conscious, now. Hopefully will not complicate proceedings. Council wanted them here."

"It _may_ actually complicate things," said Udina, almost growling. "Mengsk wants the pair of them dead, and with some good reason. Kerrigan may be one of the most dangerous terrans alive."

"Problematic," said Mordin. "Still, not my problem. Patients safe. After you."

They had reached the top of the steps. Mordin let them pass with a small smile, leaving the group to stand before the Council, who looked far more bedraggled than usual on their little balcony. Adrien looked to his right to see Raynor and Kerrigan staring dolefully at the congregation. _It could be worse. It could be Mengsk or Duke up here with us. _

"And so the terrans finally reach the Citadel," said Tevos, trying to smile, but failing miserably. _Yes, hard to remain cheerful when you can see the entirety of the Tower's wreckage from where you stand. _"It seems we owe a debt of gratitude to both you and the protoss, ambassador."

"That's _councilor_, Tevos," said Udina, causing all three councilors to drop any pretense of friendliness. "I've been reading up on your laws – I know this is unusual, but I will not see our people swept to the side. Afford us the appropriate respect, councilors, and we shall do the same."

"I see," said Valern, voice cold. "Who do we have the honor of speaking to, Councilor? What is your name?"

"I am Donnel Udina, representing the Emperor Mengsk's Terran Dominion and the Umojan Protectorate," said Udina, inclining his head. "We are here to provide military aid and relief in whatever ways we can."

"You backed the wrong man," croaked Raynor. Adrien gave him a warning look. _Do not taunt the Council. They have already had their fill of terran antics.. _Raynor either didn't notice or outright ignored him. "Protectorate's all right, but Mengsk-"

"Quiet, Raynor," snapped Udina. "There will be time enough for that later. We are all aware of Arcturus's… reputation. Right now, my concern is the attack on this station."

The turian councilor coughed. "The attack was repulsed, in no small part due to the protoss… whom Mr. Raynor has told us will be arriving shortly."

"What?!" burst out Saren. "Our alliance with the terrans was partly to shut down those bastards!"

"Be silent, Lieutenant," said Adrien. He looked up at the councilors. "Forgive the lieutenant. He is slow to forgive."

"And you, perhaps, are too quick!" Saren stepped away from Adrien, eyes narrowed. "Possessing mutual enemies does not make us friends with the protoss. They attacked without provoc-"

Saren was cut off, fittingly, by the sudden series of blue lights on the steps behind them. Sure enough, from them emerged a pair of massive figures clad in gold armor… as well as, confusingly, a geth.

"Councilors," said the taller of the two protoss, whom Adrien remembered quite clearly. _Tassadar. You have much to answer for._ "I am Tassadar. We have met once before. With me stands Praetor Zeratul. We seek to represent our people and begin to mend the rifts between us. We have also brought the geth representative."

"The gang's all here," said Kerrigan weakly, struggling to her feet. As she grabbed Raynor's hand to pull him up, Adrien noticed that Saren watched intently, distracted momentarily from the protoss.

"The geth just attacked the Citadel," said Tevos, sounding quite surprised. "Do you have a worthwhile explanation?"

"Yes." The geth then paused, apparently unaware that the others would want it to follow up on its statement. "The geth have divided. The Heretics serve the will of the Old Machines. We do not. We bear you no ill will. We will assist with reparations."

"Fortunately, that statement is borne out by our reports from the frontlines," said Sparatus. "Your units seem to still be fighting valiantly. I was not aware the geth had splintered… or what these "Old Machines" are."

"Shall we just invite all of our enemies here and forgive them?" spat Saren, winning himself no favors from anyone in the room. _I am sorry, Lieutenant._

"Wait at the bottom of the Tower, Saren," said Adrien. "I will let you know when you are needed. That was an order."

Saren was still turian, and that meant he left without so much as a word. The protoss parted to let him go, and he vanished down the steps.

"There is much anger in that soldier," said Tassadar. "He was on board the vessel that destroyed one of my carriers." The protoss's eyes flickered as he turned his head to Adrien. "As were you, yet you bear less anger."

"I have bigger concerns than that botched first contact," said Adrien. "Besides, it is Mengsk and Duke who occupy my thoughts as of late."

"So, the protoss show themselves at last," said Udina, raising an eyebrow at the large figures at the foot of the steps. "Are you here to fight the zerg, or to seek membership? Or both?"

"Membership is of little interest," said the smaller one, the slightly hunched protoss known as Zeratul. "We do not share the same wants and needs as you, councilors. We are here to provide aid and guidance, not technology. Any exchange of that nature between us will always be lopsided in your favor."

"Arrogant," said Sparatus. "Though perhaps such arrogance is not unwarranted. You did just sweep the geth out of our skies. For that, we thank you."

"Wonderful, we're all fighting together," said Udina, sarcasm obvious. "We should turn to matters at hand. My first suggestion is that we arrest Raynor and Kerrigan-"

"I don't recommend that." Kerrigan gave Udina a scathing look. "Not least because those protoss gentlemen won't allow it."

"She speaks truth," said Tassadar, voice echoing through the minds of all present. "We owe a debt to these two terrans. It would be a grievous insult to us to take action against them."

Udina opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head while Kerrigan smirked. "Suggestion withdrawn."

"All present were brought here by a single purpose," said the geth, its synthetic voice a harsh contrast to all else present. "Destruction of the Zerg Swarm. Your internal struggles, nature of the Old Machines, non-geth politics, all can wait. The war must be won, soon. The geth may be forced to withdraw."

"Withdraw?" Sparatus's mandible shifted. "Irune is under heavy assault. Without geth units stiffening our lines, we run the risk of losing the planet!"

"The Creator fleet presses our borders," said the geth. "They are willing to ignore the galaxy's impending destruction to take back their homeworld. There have been three major skirmishes already."

"Suit rats," spat Valern. "I will advise the Dalatrass to dispatch the Fourth Fleet. We have a few contingencies for Migrant Fleet belligerency. Geth, you must hold the line, we'll handle the quarians."

"Acknowledged," said the geth. "We thank you for the assistance. We recommend using protoss and terran support to begin push for Therum."

"Their primary hive cluster," said Tevos, exhaling. "I suppose we'd finally have the numbers. Are the protoss willing?"

"It was what we were born for," said Tassadar, looking both resplendent and intimidating in his armor. "We will cleanse the zerg filth from the galaxy."

"All else can wait," said Tevos, echoing the geth's words. She looked down at Udina. "Rest assured, we will see you are properly appointed and recognized, Councilor Udina. But the zerg incursion takes precedence. You must live up to your end of the bargain first."

Udina's lip curled. "Of course." He glared at the haggard looking Jim and Kerrigan. "I don't suppose you would at the very least allow General Duke to reclaim his flagship from these two criminals you refuse to arrest?"

"Funny," said Jim, looking around. "I don't recall arrangin' the deaths of any planets. Pretty sure that's a crime."

_Yes, say that in front of the Council. They'd never stoop to anything as low as assassination._ Kerrigan gave Adrien an alarmed glance as he thought that. Meanwhile, the councilors were looking to each other and muttering.

"We can discuss the events of Tarsonis at a later time," said Valern, emotionless. "There are planets out there that we can still save. We need to coordinate the protoss and terran reinforcements."

"We will coordinate ourselves," boomed Tassadar. "Direct our wrath to where the fighting is thickest, and we shall cut a swath through those vile creatures."

_For an advanced species, they seem quite keen on doing violence. They sound almost like krogan._

"Of course," said Tevos. "It is a pleasure to have you on the Citadel. For now, however, we will be adjourning this session. While these matters are of great import, much of this station is still in flames. Any help you could provide C-Sec would be welcome." She looked to her two associates, who nodded. The three of them strode off the balcony, leaving the small crowd where they were. Udina stretched back his shoulders and scowled.

"I will be returning to my ship," he said, sounding unhappy. "I have one job, and that is to establish terran influence on the Citadel. I was hoping that I would not have to win the war for them first." He inclined his head at Adrien. "General."

Udina left, flanked by his Shadowguards. The protoss had retreated to the side and begun conferring amongst themselves. _I will speak to them in a moment._ _It's Raynor and Kerrigan I want._ He watched the retreating form of Udina. _Even if this war ends in victory, I suspect we'll be at each other's throats in no time. War may drive us together, but the peace will tear us apart. I'll have to do my best to set an example._

Raynor and Kerrigan watched Adrien approach wearily, obviously uncertain as to whose side he was on.

"It is good to see you both alive," he said, extending a hand. Kerrigan shook it, but Raynor shrunk back. "I let you go for a reason. That you are here, helping, is probably more than the Council deserves. How did you get to the Tower?"

"If it seems like we've done anything impossible lately," said Kerrigan, giving a tired smile, "I would blame the protoss. They've been on a bit of a tear."

"Raynor," said Adrien. "I understand if you bear a grudge. I will try to do everything in my power to dethrone Mengsk and get you the amnesty and recognition you deserve. You saved countless lives on Tarsonis."

"Don't feel that way," muttered Jim, averting his eyes. "Just curious – Saren okay?"

"He's been… quiet." Adrien looked Raynor up and down. _Guilt, I think. An emotion I never saw Mengsk express even once. I think I know what happened between them._ "His conscience weighs heavy on him, I think. He could use a friend."

"Not sure some things are supposed to be forgiven," said Raynor, sounding a bit miserable.

"Makes the gesture all the more powerful," said Adrien. _I understand your dilemma, Mr. Raynor, but Arterius has doubtless owned up to his actions already. It is all he can do at this time._ "That big ship – what was it?"

"Hell if I know," said Raynor, shrugging. "The geth was the one who wanted it dead. Called it a Reaper. The way it was clinging to the Tower, pretty sure it was up to somethin' big."

"It's dead now," said Kerrigan shortly. "It had an enormous psionic imprint, of that much I am certain, and it bore us no good will. But the rest… hard to believe it could have ended life as we know it. Glad we had the protoss on our side."

"Yes," said Adrien, shooting a glance at the imposing figures of his old enemies. "On that we are agreed. I wish you both well, and I suggest you remain close to the protoss for the time being. No one will dare take you from them." Nodding, he let them be. As he walked past the geth and descended the steps, the two protoss turned to face him. When he reached them, he finally realized just how damn tall these things were. _Staring up at their faces like I'm a child again._

"General Victus," said Tassadar. "You were a worthy foe, from what I recall. The fact you survived your suicide assault only solidifies you in my esteem. What is it that you wish of us?"

"To offer my thanks," said Adrien, straightening. "I hope the hostilities between our peoples are concluded. You seem more diplomatic than the last time I spoke to you."

"A product of recent teachings," said Zeratul, chuckling. Adrien realized with a shock that he was speaking – and yet had no mouth. _How do these creatures eat?_ "Teachings that must shortly be completed, ere the war's end." Zeratul gave his associate a meaningful look, though Adrien did not know what it meant.

"I look forward to fighting alongside you," said Adrien, "though I confess it is mostly because I quickly tired of fighting against you. If you will excuse me…."

Adrien passed the two protoss, heading back to the elevator he had entered from. Saren was waiting, his bearing stiffer than Adrien had ever seen it.

"This was not how I expected our return to the Citadel to go either, Saren," said Adrien. "And before you start feeling ungrateful, I would remind you that it is through that Council that you will be legally absolved for Tarsonis, and it is through my speaking to him that Raynor might forgive you."

Saren's bearing collapsed slightly. "Those would be… desirable outcomes." He sighed. "But how can you stand to even look at the protoss, General? _Relentless _was your ship!"

"A lot of good men and women died on _Relentless_," said Adrien, mandibles shifting to reinforce his sincerity. "Rather than focusing on how it happened, I would rather prevent its like from occurring again. Do you understand?"

Saren's own mandibles shifted, making him look decidedly uncertain. _You have to come around, Lieutenant. Life as a walking diplomatic incident tends to be brief, and you are far too talented for that nonsense._

Moments passed, and Adrien did not get a response. Adrien shook his head, tired.

"Just… think on my words. There is much to be done." Adrien motioned Saren to follow him into the elevator. With one last lingering glance at the distant figures of the protoss behind them, Saren entered without a sound.


	33. Into Darkness

**Tassadar**

Even by Tassadar's lofty standards, the Citadel was a work of art. Many kilometers long, the colossal space station teemed with life, even as fighting raged throughout it. The Tower had been the most impressive – for the first time since making first contact with these aliens, he had found a place where artistry and life in space had met.

_The ceilings rose high, the coloration was softer than anywhere else I have seen, and they even attempted to grow plants._ The thoughts of the Council's members were still rather ominous and self-serving where the protoss were concerned, but for the moment they were preoccupied with saving their own people. _So they rank higher than the Judicators._

Where Tassadar and Zeratul stood now, however, was far less inviting.

"What I ask you to do is necessary, Tassadar," said Zeratul, clambering over the lip of yet another ledge. "We will do it, not because it is easy, but because it is hard." Tassadar followed suit, feeling the light dim further. Zeratul had brought him away from the fighting, taking him instead to the deepest reaches of the space station, places even the inhabitants rarely frequented.

Where the ceilings had been high, now Tassadar and Zeratul had but a few free feet above them. The flames and lights of the Presidium had died away. Small consoles were the only light, and the only movement was the shuffling of the four-legged, apparently braindead creatures that tended to the station. _There is nothing in their minds. It is as if the Citadel is their hive, and they are but lowly insects tending to it._ _Such a development would be impossible without outside interference._

Zeratul stopped suddenly, turning to face Tassadar with a rustle of his cloak. His harsh features took on a fierce, even demonic quality in the dim red lighting of the tunnels.

"This was something I wanted you to do on Char," said Zeratul, voice low. "But slaying Zasz changed things. Stand in the light, brothers."

From behind emerged the five other Nerazim, each wearing their warp blade and cloak.

"On Shakuras, there are many valleys snaking through the surface of the world," said Zeratul. "Harsh, beautiful, yet treacherous. What little light that can be found in our home is further strained as it is blocked by outcroppings of rock. Such valleys are dangerous, frequented for but a single reason."

"Ritual," said Tassadar, thinking immediately to the thickest jungles of Aiur, where protoss warriors would test themselves against the environment, to prove both their fearlessness and tenacity. "What would you have me do?"

"The Shadow Walk," said Zeratul, causing the warriors behind him to murmur and shift; they almost seemed to flicker like the guttering candles found in the oldest Templar Archives. "A rite of passage. All Dark Templar must walk in the dark of these valleys, relying on their wits and skill alone. Here, we make do."

"A rite of passage," said Tassadar, pondering. "I have known your ways for only a little time, Zeratul. How does it come to pass that you consider me ready?"

"You are already a seasoned warrior," replied Zeratul. "You know discipline through the Khala. What you learned through the ways of the High Templar can be applied here… if you are clever enough. And you are certainly far past the age where such a trial would be considered inappropriate." Zeratul cocked his head. "You will walk the shadows for a mile through these tunnels. Five times you will be attacked by one of us. You may defend yourself by any means necessary. Should you succeed, all of us will gladly call you brother. You would be welcomed on Shakuras."

Tassadar fixed his gaze on Ulrezaj, who glowered back at him. "I find it odd that you would participate in this. Are you finally accepting the Prelate's wisdom in full?"

"I have longed to strike you down since the moment I laid eyes on you, Templar," said Ulrezaj, his voice a quiet hiss. "To disagree with the Prelate was to miss this opportunity. I will relish the coming combat."

"It is not unheard of for initiates to suffer wounds during the Walk," said Zeratul, giving Ulrezaj a glare that made the younger warrior step back. "Settling personal vendettas is still nonetheless discouraged. Particularly because the nature of these wounds tends to be… grievous."

"How long would we be fighting?" asked Tassadar, wondering how similar Nerazim ritual combat was to Khalai. "To first blood?"

"You have yet to truly see our warp blades in action, Executor," said Zeratul. "Kythos, step forward. It is time to remedy this."

The smaller Dark Templar moved to the front, bearing an item in his hands. He bowed his head towards Tassadar, lowering himself to his knees and lifting the item high.

"This is to be your warp blade," said Zeratul while Tassadar gently took the wrist-mounted device and inspected it. "While we cannot prevent your usage of the Khalai based psionics, bearing a Khalai weapon in a Nerazim trial would be inappropriate. Remove your psi blades, Templar."

With a shrug, Tassadar clasped the blade on his right arm, removing it with a sharp motion. It fell to the floor with a clatter before remaining still. Tassadar shifted the warp blade to his other hand and pried his last weapon loose. It fell free, leaving Tassadar to consider the weapons at his feet, the blades that had served him for centuries.

"Place the warp blade on your dominant arm," commanded Zeratul. _He does not know. All Khalai are strong in both._ Tassadar did not protest, however, instead clamping the new weapon to his left arm. "Now activate it, Templar."

Tassadar did, and then cried out involuntarily. A cold pain shot through his mind as his shields were sapped by the softly glowing weapon, as his armor began weighing on him heavily. He crumpled, falling to his knees as he tried to maintain the strength of both his shields and his new weapon.

"We rely on single, but effective strikes," said Zeratul loudly, ignoring Tassadar's agony. "Our philosophy dictates that when we go to battle, it be with but one focus. You Templar spread yourselves thin. You must concentrate on bearing your armor, powering your weapons, and maintaining the strength of your shields. You strike with a flurry of blows, charge in enormous hordes. You alleviate the burden of maintaining this focus by bleeding the discomfort through the Khala." Zeratul lowered himself to meet face-to-face with Tassadar, watching him struggle without emotion. "Here, that is not an option. This is a Nerazim trial; you must remain cloaked at all times, and you must bear our weapon. What are you afraid of, Tassadar?"

"The zerg," groaned Tassadar, feeling his shields collapse entirely as he tried to feed his hungry weapon. "The Conclave. Extinction. You." With a shudder, the blade retracted with a barely audible hum. A strong hand pulled him to his feet.

"You remember the past, you are wearied by the present, and you are terrified of the future," said Zeratul. "Away from Char, you are no longer able to take it day by day, no longer able to maintain your focus. Here, on this Shadow Walk, you will find your center." Zeratul stepped back again, eyes glimmering. The dull stares of the Nerazim behind him, features shadowed, brought a chill to Tassadar's hearts. "Your armor must fall away, Executor. Your shields must be weakened, to feed the cloak and blade. Finally, you must lay all of your hopes, your fears, and your desires to rest for the duration of this trial. There can be but one thought on your mind: what lies in front of you. What you can hear. What you can see. Do you understand?"

"He is weak," snarled Ulrezaj. "Look at him, collapsing under the weight of a warp blade. He wields the Void without understanding it – such a thing can only bear ill, Prelate!"

"That remains to be seen," said Zeratul calmly. "To answer your question, Tassadar, there is no first blood in our rituals. Did you feel the strength of the blade?"

"It felt as if it could cut through anything." Tassadar shivered, feeling the weight of his armor and knowing it would not stand up to any solid blow delivered by the warriors assembled before him.

"And here is where we must change your thinking, young Executor," said Zeratul. "The warp blade is not merely powerful enough to cut through anything. It possesses the capability to cut through _nothing._"

_Ah. I see._ Tassadar looked down at the weapon latched on to his arm, trying to imagine activating it again. _Not with this armor._ Without hesitation, he shed first the weapon, and then began disengaging the clamps that let his suit protect his flesh. Slowly, as each golden plate fell away, he became as exposed to the Citadel as he had been on Char. When he reattached his warp blade, it was one of the only two items he bore, the other being a simple loin cloth.

"You must proceed along this tunnel," said Zeratul, gesturing into the dark. "You must remain cloaked. Five times will we assault you. Five times must we be repulsed. Patience, subtlety, improvisation… all must be tested. Are you ready, Tassadar?"

_In truth… no. How could any Khalai be ready for this?_

"I do this for Aiur," said Tassadar, standing tall among the shadowy warriors. "If such mastery would better let me defend her, then I see no reason to be afraid. Prelate, I stand ready."

"Good." Behind Zeratul, the warriors faded away, vanishing as if into smoke. "Then let us begin." And with that, with nary a sound or a hint of a warning, the Prelate was gone. Tassadar stood alone amidst the pile of weapons and armor he would be forced to leave behind, with no sound but the soft footfalls of the wandering keepers.

_Into darkness…_

Tassadar let the Void envelop him, feeling the cold wash over him as if he had been submerged in murky waters. On Char, where it was bright and hot, the Void felt to him a comfort. Here, he knew all too well that he was not alone.

With no boots to clad his feet, Tassadar's own steps down the tunnel were light, almost silent. The keepers did not notice his passing, moving to and from the consoles they worked with. The Khala was quiet.

Tassadar moved forward cautiously, head turning at every noise. The tunnels were not empty – in the distance he could hear voices and a soft bubbling. He knew not what it meant, but proceeded nonetheless. _The darkness seems impenetrable, and yet gives way as I approach._

The tunnel widened, becoming a larger room. Light shone from below a railing – the tunnel was a bridge above some other part of the Citadel. Tassadar gazed down from above, invisible, at the two salarians that had made camp in this forgotten part of the station.

"…to afford something other than protein from those vats." The salarians were eating from a bowl each, chatting all the while. "Wasn't exactly what I was dreaming of when I came to the Citadel. Are you sure this part of the station is safe?"

"Been here for years," said the other salarian. "Lived through three other terrorist attacks. Few know the tunnels as I do. Trust me – geth, zerg, whatever, none of them are finding us down here. It's a maze."

Tassadar was about to reach out for their minds when he felt a cold breeze pass across the back of his neck. He whirled about, activating his warp blade, ready for the exertion this time.

His attacker's response was immediate. Tassadar barely brought his blade up across his face in time. Weapon met weapon with a shriek, their green energies crossing before Tassadar's eyes. Tassadar shoved the blade forward, causing his opponent to stagger under the sudden onslaught of Tassadar's strength. The salarians below had gone silent. _Run, little things. These tunnels are not for you anymore._

Tassadar used his attacker's destabilization to fix his footing, planting a foot firmly in front of him and turning to the side. His enemy did the same, his shadowy form now presenting less of a target.

Tassadar lunged, his blade flashing in the dark. His opponent countered clumsily, apparently weary of the power of Tassadar's blows. Sure enough, when the edges clashed, his enemy's was turned aside by Tassadar's ferocity.

Tassadar followed it up with two wide slashes. The first was dodged as his assailant fell back, while the other caused his shields to flare.

"Well done." The Dark Templar retracted his warp blade, offered a short bow, and vanished into smoke. _One._ Tassadar let his own blade retreat as well, letting himself recover. _Onward._

Tassadar crept across the bridge, watching the shadows shift and fall away as he made his approach. _There a thousand things I could be doing. Putting out the fires that burn across this station. Preparing our troops alongside Artanis. Repairing our relationship with the turians. But here I am, in the dark. Playing with the Nerazim._

For twenty minutes, there was nothing. The bridge had become tunnel once more, and more worryingly, grew increasingly narrow. The bubbling was growing louder.

Tassadar stopped. Ahead, the darkness pressed in, unnaturally thick. _They mentioned improvisation… and I think I know what lies ahead._

Lowering his shields momentarily, Tassadar willed a hallucination into existence. What appeared before him looked almost disturbing. _That is how I look without armor? Scrawny, bereft of that which makes the protoss great? Or perhaps… simply stripped of all that is unnecessary._ The hallucination gazed back without blinking. Tassadar sent it forward, making sure to follow it closely and give it every appearance of attempting stealth.

Sure enough, the hallucination went but a scarce few meters when a flash of green appeared in the shadows behind it… and in front of Tassadar. The green moved forward, almost making Tassadar chuckle. He brought his own blade to bear, slid forward, and grabbed the Dark Templar from behind, laying the glowing green blade before his neck.

"Well done?" asked Tassadar softly, watching the muscles in the Nerazim's neck tighten. _Selak. I imagine you were looking forward to taking me by surprise._

"I am bested." Selak gave a small nod. Tassadar released his would be attacker and let both him and his own hallucination fade away. _Two._

The darkness had seemed to recede, leaving only Tassadar and the faint sound of bubbling. The tunnel was beginning to widen once more.

There was another bridge, but what the tunnel was crisscrossing now was far more interesting. Several vats full of steaming liquid occupied the room below, their enormous bases tended to by the strange keepers below. No sooner had Tassadar leaned over to gaze at the vats than he knew what was about to transpire. _I can feel your presence…_

This time he was not given the chance to fully turn around. His shields flared as his next challenger rushed him with great speed pushing him up against the railing – which barely came up to his waist.

Tassadar struggled, fumbling with the strong hands that clawed at his chest, that were trying to shove him off the bridge. He ripped one hand free from his body and lashed out with a heavy claw, bouncing off his assailant's shield. The attacker fell back, giving Tassadar time to kick against the railing and push himself from the edge.

_Ulrezaj._ He recognized the hate in the Nerazim's eyes. _I somehow doubt trying to shove me into a protein vat is acceptable by the Walk's standards._ They both activated their warp blades simultaneously.

This time, it was the Nerazim contender who struck first. Ulrezaj seemed to blur as he charged, blade slashing. Tassadar jumped neatly to the side, watching in slight shock as parts of the railing were cleaved in twain by Ulrezaj's blows. Tassadar's own counterattack was firmly parried, despite the uncertain footing Ulrezaj had found himself in. _Stronger than the other two._

Tassadar's shields flared as Ulrezaj deftly riposted, thrusting his own blade at one of Tassadar's hearts. Tassadar fell back, shrinking away from his foe. Ulrezaj advanced after him with a low chuckle, his footfalls quiet yet confident. Tassadar, for his part, felt his own warp blade become heavier. _Ulrezaj is far more used to its energies than I. _Below, the vats still bubbled and the keepers continued working, heedless.

Tassadar's first instinct was to deactivate his cloak in order to recharge his shields, but he would not give Ulrezaj the pleasure of invalidating his progress so far, even if he did seem intent on murdering him. _Swordplay will not cut it; he is as strong as I. _Tassadar stopped at the other end of the bridge, unwilling to retreat further. _A psi storm would kill us both. A hallucination would be seen through. What options do I have?_

Ulrezaj was closing the distance, presenting only his side to Tassadar. His blade glowed an eerie green and was poised to strike. _I have both the Khala and the Void at my disposal. Use them!_

Time slowed. Tassadar's mind calmed as he let the dark envelop him, all the while submerging himself in the Khala. _Fenix worries about the asari, and refuses to board the Citadel. Artanis hunts zerg in tunnels under Zakera Ward, accompanied by several zealots. Udun gloats to anyone who will listen about having destroyed the largest non-protoss ship any of our warriors has ever laid eyes on. Kametra speaks at length to the geth through an exhausted Kerrigan, becoming continually more fascinated at the idea of an AI version of the Khala. And I feel slight twinges of panic from the station at large. Curious..._

Normally, such things would have aroused Tassadar's attention, but he just let them slip away… just as he let the shadows crawl up his arm. _Let it all go. All is dust in the end; only that which is under our control matters. The present moment…_

The Void called. Beneath the heavy and chaotic fabric of the universe was something silky and still, a vast emptiness that encompassed both everything and nothing. The Khala could not touch it, for the Khala promised immortality. This was the end of all matter, the place from which universes were born, and where they went when they died. When the last protoss fell, when the Khala itself was no more, this was where they were bound. _It is what waits for the Nerazim, yet it does not frighten them. From the moment their psi appendages are severed, they are prepared for the end… indeed, they even exploit it._

"You overstep your bounds, Ulrezaj," said Tassadar without emotion. "The Khala protects… but the Void calls." Ulrezaj hesitated. _Witness me._

The shadows crept across Tassadar's shoulders, meeting at the hollow at the base of his neck. His warp blade seethed, turning from green to black, before shutting off entirely. Ulrezaj's eyes widened, but he still leapt in to attack.

Tassadar caught his heavy form in the air, holding not only the body, but stilling the molecules around him. Through the Khala, he felt the shock of his brothers and sisters as he introduced something cold and foreign. _A great merging._

The shadows danced and then fell still. Light filled the tunnel intermittently, filling the tunnel and leaving it just as the Khala and the Void fought and entwined within Tassadar's skull. _How can the two opposites be reconciled? By recognizing that they are not opposites at all. Without one, there could not be another. Light casts a shadow. One blinds, the other suffocates. One illuminates, the other conceals. They are defined by each other's absence. It binds them closer than anything else._

Tassadar stepped forward, directly under the paralyzed form of Ulrezaj. Their eyes met.

"The Khala lets me see every atom that makes up your being," said Tassadar. "I can see the tendons attached to your bones, the very fibers that connect your skin. I can see your hearts beating ever more frantically as I hold you in place." Tassadar closed his eyes. "And through the Void…I can see how they will be unmade."

Ulrezaj's eyes darted continually to the protein vats, evidently panicked by Tassadar's words.

"Do not be frightened," said Tassadar, palm outstretched. "It is irrelevant. It is not today. Fall and be humbled, child of Shakuras. My Walk continues." _Three._

Ulrezaj fell in a heap, unmoving. Tassadar paid him no further mind. For a moment, just a moment, he had seen where he himself was headed. _Should I be afraid? To wield, let alone master both concepts is to belong to neither. If I fall, where do I go? They never recovered anything of Adun's body._ But the corridor shifted, time falling away. _What I do now is inside my control. I advance._

Despite remaining cloaked still, the darkness seemed to lighten as Tassadar advanced, no longer creeping, but somehow more silent. When the next warrior emerged from the darkness behind Tassadar without making a sound, Tassadar knew. When the Nerazim attempted to activate his warp blade, it only sputtered and sparked. Tassadar turned and fixed his gaze upon his attacker. The Dark Templar retreated without a word. _Four._

The end was in sight. Tassadar walked the final stretch as if he were walking in one of Aiur's province of Antioch – he was devoid of fear. The fifth attacker appeared from the dark and promptly fell to his knees, prostrating himself with a gasp.

"Twilight Messiah," murmured Kythos, evidently unwilling to attack. Tassadar passed by without acknowledging his presence. _Five._

At the end of the tunnel, visage shadowed by the light streaming in beyond, was Zeratul.

"You would surrender all to walk this path," he said, apparently unawed. "Moreover, the effects it will have on your followers cannot be anticipated. Some will revile you, others will raise banners in your name and burn planets to exalt you. Is this what you want?"

"It is not about what I want," said Tassadar. "It is about what must be done. There is only one obstacle in front of me. You said you valued improvisation."

"This was meant to be a surprise…." grunted Zeratul, his own blade suddenly writhing from the sheath. He disappeared into smoke, and Tassadar faltered, losing sight of him. _Clever Prelate._

Tassadar, growing weary of Dark Templar antics, checked behind him immediately. There was nothing. Kythos had shrank back against the nearest wall and looked on in fright, but Tassadar paid him no mind.

A rush of air hit Tassadar's cheek. From his right, there was a surge of movement. The green blade came screaming down, threatening to split Tassadar's head in two. Tassadar deflected it with a gesture of his right hand, his shields flickering at the slight toll. His left arm lit up in time to knock the second blow aside. Yet when he prepared to adjust himself, Zeratul vanished without a sound.

_Ah. Hit and run._

Tassadar remained perfectly still, listening closely to the sounds the Citadel made, the gentle groans of its eternal architecture. Kythos's hearts pumped frantically, the blood racing through his veins at breakneck speed. From far behind, the two salarians discussed what they had heard from the catwalk above while the protein vats continued to hiss. And, softly, Zeratul shuffled through the dark.

_From behind, of course._

Tassadar's blade met Zeratul's again, and this time they danced. The air sizzled as the two weapons scythed through it, meeting with a frenzy of sound or whirring by as one of the two dodged.

Tassadar attempted to retreat from the flurry of blows, to free up some space with which he could immobilize the Prelate, but Zeratul only pressed forward, his blows striking closer and closer to home. Tassadar's shields flared once, and then twice. _The next blow will mark my flesh._

Zeratul surged forward, blade slashing. Tassadar fell backward slightly and felt searing pain as it left a light, steaming cut across his chest, felt something fall away from his head. Then he lurched forward, putting a palm over Zeratul's face, holding it firmly. From behind, one of Tassadar's psi appendages flared.

"Just for a moment…." Tassadar whispered, letting the Khala surge through him, willing the pain away. "See as I see."

"Ah," said Zeratul, his body convulsing slightly as Tassadar acted as a conduit for the Khala. "This is what they cut away." He twitched. "It is… blinding."

Tassadar released him, suddenly brought back to where he was. The Khala was in tumult – back on Aiur, the Conclave had exploded in outrage at the sudden intrusion of the Void. _They see it as polluting the gestalt._ His followers on the Citadel, meanwhile, were alternately horrified and intrigued.

Then the pain set in. From his chest, there was a blazing agony. From his head-

"Fetch me a psi clamp!" yelled Zeratul as Tassadar fell to the floor, his limbs contorting. His hand felt for the pain and found a psi appendage, cut neatly in half by Zeratul's blade.

For a moment, everything went black. He felt his strength ebbing away from the wound, psionic energy pulsing from the injury like blood. When something hard and strong was fastened to it, the agony only intensified.

How long he lay there, Tassadar had no idea. When his eyes opened, it was to find the Dark Templar assembled before him, all of them looking to some degree shaken. The pain had turned into a dull ache.

"You bestrode both the Khala and the Void, even if only briefly," said Zeratul, stepping forward. "Adun was the first, and until now, the only. But to show us the Khala…?" Zeratul shook his head. "Unthinkable. I apologize for your wound – it was to be my last strike, I was going to announce the success of your trial once you had parried. I was not anticipating… that."

Tassadar felt the clamp with his fingers. It was warm to the touch and securely in place. _In showing him the Khala, bringing him closer to the Khalai, he in turn brought me closer to the Nerazim._

"We clamped the appendage to prevent psychic bleedout," said Zeratul as Tassadar clambered to his feet. "We are quite familiar with the nature of such wounds by necessity. I am sorry."

"I have other appendages," said Tassadar, shaking his head. "If I have been weakened, it is to no great degree. The Walk. Have I passed?"

"Your methods were unusual," said Zeratul, "though it was to be expected. You were not required to best me – the final opponent of the Shadow Walk is always there to reinforce that there is much more to learn. You did not shame yourself, brother."

With that final word, Tassadar bowed his head, nodding. _It is done. In accepting the title of sib, I owe allegiance to both the Khala and the Void. _"Thank you. I will not shame the Nerazim."

"When you merged the energies," said Zeratul haltingly, "your body began to die. Nothing irreversible, but such connections are inevitably fatal if held for too long. Adun burnt away into nothing, protecting us. How did you feel?"

"When I walked betwixt light and dark," said Tassadar, "I knew that this was not to be my death. Adun did not act in error; he accepted his death as destiny." _All of his moments had built to a final act of protection. From the moment a sapient is born, they are hurtling towards the inevitable conclusion, colliding with the walls of the universe all the way. At the end, some die with defiance or laughter. Adun died knowing he did the right thing._ _He went in peace._

"You still have much to learn of the Void," said Zeratul. "As a Prelate, I can teach you. But the ways of the Khala – in that I am blind. To combine the two is beyond my ken. We begin to reach the limits of my understanding. I pray that you do not see me as a failure."

Tassadar stepped forward, clasping a heavy hand on Zeratul's shoulder. "Brother… I could never see you that way."

"Tassadar?" It was Artanis, sounding as uncertain as Tassadar had ever heard him. "Have the Dark Templar hurt you? What has happened?"

"I am fine, Executor," said Tassadar, trying to contain the pain in both his voice and the Khala. "I am… fulfilling my purpose. How goes your hunt?"

"Halted," said Artanis, sounding uncertain. "Tassadar, this Citadel Council is panicking. James Raynor and Sarah Kerrigan reported being the second into the Tower, after the zerg. Now, the Council is trying to bring aid to the station and is unable. The geth reports the immobilization of its fleets. Tassadar, the zerg have assumed control of the mass relays."


	34. Destiny

**Daggoth**

The VI flickered in the dim light of Ilos, its only company being the vorchling who had awakened it.

"We are victorious," spoke Daggoth through the vorchling. "You saved the galaxy. Be proud, Vigil. The Overmind is pleased."

"You are not what they were expecting," replied the VI in its calm voice. "No records of beings like you exist – even the rachni did not possess your capabilities. But if the Reapers are undone, then my task is complete. Power failing."

"We will restore you!" said Daggoth. "Vigil, the protheans will not die here, with you."

"They already did," said the VI matter-of-factly. "Long ago. It was a pleasure to serve this cycle. You have bought the galaxy time, Daggoth. Use it well. For us. For you. For all." _No. For the Swarm._ Its task complete, the VI's flickering avatar faded away, the last of the light in the room dying with it. Daggoth instructed the vorchling to put down as many of the remaining geth as it could before abandoning it. _We will return, Vigil. You will not be forgotten. _Ilos was lost, for the time being, the protoss assault had done too much damage. The remaining geth were not worth contending with. _It is still a victory. The Citadel is compromised. The relays are dead._

The periodic floods of reinforcements that besieged worlds were receiving had stopped entirely. Daggoth had frozen the galaxy, giving him precious time to redouble his assault on the worlds already occupied by his brood.

_The Reaper has fallen._ His own attack on the Citadel had put an end to the plans of the damnable machines, all the while furthering the Overmind's agenda. He had watched through the eyes of a drifting, near-dead hydralisk as the protoss annihilated his foe. _It seems the Mothership is indeed the superior of the two vessels. _

_But the death of the Reaper is not the true victory; it is not reason to rejoice._

Daggoth's brood had grown to a sufficient size at last. The Overmind's thoughts now drifted lazily through the minds and souls of every zerg warrior in creation; It had even conversed with the meddling terrans! _It is almost time to strike at Aiur._

**"That is Our purpose, the final stage of zerg evolution," **said the Overmind, causing Daggoth to quiver in awe back on Therum. _To hear Its voice again!_ **"But we cannot strike. Not yet." **

The other Cerebrates raised a cry at this, and Daggoth could not help but join them in protest. _It is our sacred purpose, our destiny! These turians, these asari, these salarians, vorcha, elcor, volus… they are but fuel for the fires that will rage across Aiur as we storm it. Why do we delay? Our numbers are sufficient._

**"Quiet now, sons of Mine," **said the Overmind, his voice distant rumbling thunder, the echo of a far-off disaster. **"You do not see as I see. The protoss are on the Citadel. This "Emissary of Death" has pinpointed Daggoth's location. The relay's shutdown is temporary, and the protoss are unhindered by their darkening. Daggoth, My son… the protoss will soon be on the hunt for you."**

"I live to serve, and gladly will I sacrifice myself!" cried Daggoth to the rejoicing of his brothers. "Take my brood, Father, and let Aiur burn!"

**"I have suffered the death of one too many children," **said the Overmind, Its voice turning angry. **"We could consume all of creation, and I would consider the loss of even one further son to be unacceptable. No more. Aiur blinds you all with its promise of completion. There is an alternative, a path no one can expect. Daggoth, you will not fall. I forbid it."**

"Then I shall reinforce Therum!" said Daggoth, trying to contain his disappointment. "With Your will guiding us, we are unstoppable! If You require me to live, Father, then I will live."

**"This conflict must be put to an end," **said the Overmind. **"Taking Aiur is one means of insuring that, but the preparations give the protoss too much time. Daggoth, what do you know of Element Zero, of the asari?"**

_Ah yes. The asari._

Daggoth had infested an increased number of them of late, a product of his ever-widening attacks on the Council. One of them he was particularly proud of, though she was not ready yet. His mind felt for the chrysalis close by and relished the sensation of the tendrils of indoctrination slowly being pried away from her mind. _An old request the Overmind made: infest a non-protoss psionic. And this is no ordinary psionic. The fixation of interspecies breeding these asari has is questionable; it dilutes their gestalt. T'soni's pureblood status is only hampered by the traces of junk krogan DNA._

As soon as Daggoth had pried the Doctor T'soni from the Thorian, as soon as he had departed Feros and left the plant to its own precious devices, he had told his Father what he had done. The Overmind had ripped open a warp hole, sending Abathur through.

"Reactivating latent Ardat-Yakshi gene strains," the infernal gene machinist had muttered. "Traces. Traces of modification. Some xel'naga. Some not. Possible proto-Firstborn, rejected for immaturity of species gestalt. Can increase psionic power. Can increase biotic power. Wash away indoctrination. Ultimate zerg organism."

"I know the asari well, Father," said Daggoth. "The infested ones, the Witches, they retain their biotic power-"

**"You have not gazed into their minds, Daggoth," **said the Overmind in a slightly chiding tone. **"The Reaper consumed all of your attention. Two matriarchs have fallen into your clutches, and you used them to merely do violence. Their world, Thessia. What do you know of it?"**

"It is filled with asari," said Daggoth, a little confused. "Their diplomatic ties make them hard to strike against, and every one of them is blessed with biotics. Thessia must fall last, after Palaven and Sur'kesh. Resistance is very high."

**"The planet is bathed in Element Zero," **said the Overmind. **"Every being born there is biotic, from the lowest life forms to the asari themselves. And their Temple of Athame hides a secret, houses a matriarch conspiracy. One that shall prove their downfall." **The Overmind's words began to fill with intention, and a surge of excitement went through every Cerebrate. _Yes. The Overmind stirs! Is it time?_

**"The Amon left his mark there, My sons. Aiur is to be my eventual seat, but this Thessia presents too grand of an opportunity. The relays lie inactive for the nonce. A holy site has been uncovered. Abathur completes the last and greatest of My children. Sovereign is dead, and the protoss threaten My son. Daggoth, this is your hour." **Daggoth stilled at this moment, his mind racing as the Overmind paused. **"The Koprulu broods are ready. Daggoth, we must strike together at Thessia. Burn their cities. Take their temple. Take the Element Zero. Prepare the site."**

_It cannot mean… yes. Yes!_

Above Therum, a rift in space opened. Above Zada Ban, Yex'por, and Dekuuna, the Overmind made Its will known. And in the Koprulu Sector, in faraway Char, Daggoth's brothers clamored to be the first through the breach. _But it is not their honor. Now, Sovereign, I am the vanguard of destruction. It is written. Father commands._

The overlords rose. The mutalisks, the guardians, the scourge, they climbed the heavens, spurred on by the will of Daggoth. Char was finally emptying entirely; even Daggoth's brother Cerebrates had bestirred themselves. _Not I. The T'soni nears completion, and I have grown fond of Therum._

On countless worlds, the survivors of Daggoth's assaults gazed up in awe at the Overmind's display of power. To them, perhaps it seemed a relief that so many brood warriors departed while nestled safely in the guts of the overlords and leviathans. _Foolish. They should know by now that the cost of our absence on their worlds is the presence on so many others. And this time there will be no delay, no recovery. _

Daggoth's mind expanded, filling the fibers of every zerg that disappeared into the rifts. As they hurtled towards their destiny, Daggoth rejoiced at the warmth that was the Overmind, crawling through the same minds. _At long last, we are one again. And soon, we will be bound forever._

_**THE TIME IS NIGH.**_

Above the warm skies of Thessia, shadowing the gleaming towers of the Council's greatest people, enormous rifts had opened. The people below stopped and stared while the asari's mighty Sixth Fleet began sending frantic messages back and forth. _The relays are shut. Soon, you will cry for reinforcements. Those requests will be heard. They cannot be heeded._

The leviathans were the first through, and Daggoth could _feel_ as the entire planet began to scream. From elsewhere, on the other sides of the planet, more rifts opened. _My brothers. Our broods are united once more!_

**"Araq, Kagg, engage the fleet," **said the Overmind. **"Daggoth. Armali. Now." **

The Tiamat Brood descended, spurred greatly by Daggoth's frantic urging. Even as parts of Thessia's surface lit up as the planetary defense network went online, Daggoth's Brood plunged onward.

They died by the thousands. Every gun that could point skyward in Armali was trained on Daggoth's Swarm. Overlords burst into gore. Mutalisks were sheared in half. Even a mighty leviathan fell, its body falling away into one of Thessia's oceans, sending enormous waves in every direction. _We were born to sustain such casualties. They harm only the body. They cannot touch our spirit._

The overlords touched down in the center of Armali. On the outskirts it might have been safer for the landing zerg, but Daggoth knew that panic would inevitably spread more quickly if he went straight for the throat. _And they will not bomb neighborhoods filled with civilians, at least not at first. Even the mechanical geth were hesitant to do such a thing._

The zerglings and vorchlings were the first to enter the fray. Civilians ran screaming from the creatures as they bound and snarled among them. Then the singularities went up, and Daggoth found himself forced to contend with a fully biotic populace.

The zerglings and smaller vorchlings were fast, deadly, but also relatively low in mass. Every adult asari was capable of lifting them in the air and then fleeing with all speed, unless they decided to follow up with a deadly warp first. The hydralisks fared better, and their acid spines proved vital in disabling targets before they could unleash their biotics.

That was where the commandos became a problem. They were the only ones who weren't panicking with very good reason.

Daggoth's first encounter with them began after a team of vorchlings and hydralisks chased a group of civilians down a side street. From a distant window, there was a flash of light, followed by a hydralisk's brain exiting its head. The other zerg barely had time to respond before more asari joined in, firing from atop rooftops and from open windows. The vorchlings tried to scatter, but were yanked off of their feet and shot in the head, one by one. _Resistance is heavy._

The other Cerebrates were having even less luck. Their own broods were still unused to fighting outside the Koprulu Sector, and lacked the diversity of forces Daggoth had at his disposal.

"Settle on the boundaries, brothers," Daggoth said. "Form hive clusters on the fringes. Every zerg born here will be biotic. Establish yourselves, and move in. Fear not for me. I will not fail."

Sixth Fleet was retreating under the twin onslaught of Ramog and Kamazz's broods, but casualties were lower than expected. While there was no chance of retreat through the relay, the fleet made do with short hops out of reach of the zerg warriors, harassing them at a distance. _Ah. A gap in the strategy._ Daggoth was used to drawn out slogs against turians and geth. When he brought overwhelming force to bear against them, it usually resulted in vengeful orbital bombardment. The asari were different. Even on their homeworld, they used ambushes, superior mobility, and their biotics to wage war.

_Every being we have infested out here has trumpeted the superiority of the asari economy and the fierceness of their warriors. Now it becomes clear – much of this is posturing. Their strength lies in their status. The zerg are better than that. _The smaller zerg were so much fodder. Daggoth's victory lay in bringing overwhelming force to bear.

The guardians hovered above the city, clumsily attempting to evade the gunships that infested Thessia's skies. Daggoth's own mutalisks were having trouble keeping their bomber brethren safe; the gunship pilots had probable centuries of practice at mastering their craft, and their equipped turrets were proving adept at puncturing their wings. It made no matter; enough of the guardians survived to be useful.

Far below, the smaller zerg were retreating behind their larger brethren. Ultralisks and dekuunalisks stood side by side, snorting and slavering at the prospect of the coming slaughter. They moved slowly, spreading amongst the streets and ignoring the biotics tossed their way. When the commandos made their appearance, it was naturally an ambush. Their heavy rifles gave the ultralisks pause; the impacts sheared away carapace and tore into vital organs. One ultralisk went down. Then two. But this was acceptable. The dekuunalisks were the real threat.

"GURGLING EXCLAMATION: THIS WORLD BELONGS TO THE SWARM." The six appendages snapped out from behind the dekuunalisk, spreading out like a fan. With a groan, the limbs whipped back and forth, propelling spines at a dizzying speed. _Hydralisks for anti-air. Dekuunalisks for artillery – just as they were before infestation._

From windows, from high above, buildings began to fracture and crumble at the barrage. Asari dove behind cover, only to find it useless. Others fell back, reinforcing their barriers. A few tried to return fire. It didn't matter. The ultralisks had their advance.

From the center of Armali they pushed outward. This had given many asari the chance to escape the city, but there was no escaping the planet. _You will simply fall to another brood. _Daggoth could feel the hive clusters springing up along coastlines and in the deeper countryside, and even caught fleeting glimpses of the first biotic zerglings. _They bear barriers and can pull prey towards them. Excellent._

The rampage continued, though Daggoth still did not yet have the time or space to establish his own hive cluster. Resistance was still too heavy. Where the commandos established a strong defensive position, Daggoth attacked with guardians. Where the air support was too thick to do this, defilers coughed up clouds that let the dekuunalisks and vorchlings advance. Where the asari sectioned off an area to evacuate large numbers of refugees, Daggoth let them do so. The temple was the goal.

_And the temple is curiously well-guarded._ The gunships buzzing over the enormous Temple of Athame were extremely aggressive in their defense, and the area around the building bristled with anti-air guns. Furthermore, the asari were barricading entire streets with their biotics, and apparently had several teams of commandos on standby just to defend this one building. _They must realize its significance. Abathur mentioned xel'naga involvement. Father spoke of a holy site. Could it be…?_

The approach was too deadly even for Daggoth's tastes. It demanded a new approach: that of attacking a turian military stronghold rather than a volus domicile. _Speaking of the volus..._

The overlords moved as one towards the temple, their insides gorged with one of Daggoth's most recent innovations. He had thus far only used them against salarians, and had deemed it overkill. The amphibian saboteurs were less than adept at defensive operations. _The asari's biotics make that a different case, however._

From the ground, the Swarm advanced. Heavy machine guns and artillery strikes greeted them, proving the asari were desperate enough to turn one of their greatest cities into rubble in order to deny the zerg their prize. The anti-air guns boomed, making the air shake and distort. Overlords died. Mutalisks died. Guardians returned fire, only to be intercepted by the damned gunships. _Casualties mount. If this does not work, I will have to call on one of the other broods. To lose the honor of being the founding brood would sting only slightly less than that of failure._

The overlords were directly overhead, dying by the dozen, their payloads rupturing the insides in the process. The survivors loosened their ventral sacs, dropping rotund, bulbous zerg among the defenders in solid lines. _Bombing run complete._

From inside the barriers, the air rippled. What followed was a series of deafening _booms_ that gave even the rage-filled ultralisks pause. From outside the barricades, the walls buckled from within, and then fell away. On the other side, there was only smoking ruin, a horrible acid smell, and a few small body parts that might once have been asari. _Yes. The volus's physiology makes it useless as a warrior, but perfect as a bomb. _The zerg poured through the gaps, and the gunships suddenly became far less interested in Daggoth's guardians. _It is too late._

Before, the asari's position had been so well-entrenched to be nigh-unassailable. Now, the asari who had been outside the perimeter were rushing back, even abandoning civilians to try and bind the gaping wounds in the defensive line. _Trying to stem the tide of blood from a severed limb. The shock is too great. Infection sets in._

From high above, Daggoth looked through a queen. Smoke climbed into the heavens, but the fires did not yet spread near the temple. His zerg ran through the streets, loping little ants amongst the ruins. Gunfire crisscrossed the contested areas, the distant reports little more than dull thuds, the occasional sharp crack. The asari were running. The asari were hiding. _Abandoning the Temple. _The commandos would hide in buildings, guide civilians, and catch his warriors in horrible crossfires. He knew he could bring his warriors to bear against them and win, over and over, but the cost would be high. And it was not his purpose.

As the lone vorchling, the first zerg to break away from the fighting, walked through the doors of the Temple, Daggoth trembled ever so gently in awe. Many feet above the vorchling, imperious and impressive, stood the goddess Athame. From within, something pulsed and emitted warmth. _Beacon. Prothean beacon. And… something else. _

_No. How…?_

The vorchling stepped forward, directly guided by Daggoth's will. It approached the statue with reverence and extended a scaled palm. From within, the statue shifted. Its blue heart shone, and cracks of light emanated from the figure. Whispers crept from Athame; ancient xel'naga orders, barely understood, fragments of warnings about the Reapers… and the protheans. One prothean in particular.

The statue crumbled before the vorchling, before Daggoth. The stone fell away, leaving only purity, only warmth. Atop the prothean beacon, long unrecognized as anything other than a prothean relic, gleamed a flawless Khaydarin crystal.

**"Behold, part of the legacy of the Amon," **intoned the Overmind. **"When I scoured the thoughts of the asari matriarchs, I expected not this find. For a time, a lengthy time, I judged this part of the galaxy to be little more than godless space, untouched by the holy xel'naga. But nowhere was left unmarked. These asari are to be offered reverence, My children, just as the protoss are. The xel'naga may have discarded them, found them too offensive to be part of their grand destiny, but I find them worthy of awe. They are beautiful."**

The Temple of Athame buckled. The Overmind had seized control of the surviving guardians, and directed salvo after salvo at the structure. Neither the vorchling nor Daggoth paid the failing integrity of the temple any mind, even as pillars shattered against the floor close by. They had only eyes for the twin legacies of the only two civilizations Daggoth would ever recognize as being of worth.

Daggoth's brothers cried out, but were unable to break Daggoth's silence. The crystal pulsed and hummed. The beacon's glow increased in intensity. The roof of the temple broke down and fell away, the building crumbling around the vorchling. Daggoth did not pay it any mind. _Now is the hour. This is the place._

**"You did well, My son. You are right to be riveted. Now behold and rejoice, while the galaxy shivers in naked terror. The hour of judgement is come."**

High above, a new rift opened. This time, only one thing flew from its glowing jaws. Enormous, it caught flame as it entered Thessia's atmosphere and hurtled downward, dark and searing.

It struck the temple with the force of a thousand infested volus. Daggoth's mind filled with white as the vorchling beheld the face of his Father for an instant before being unmade. Smoke and dust spread from the impact site like the petals of an opening flower, coating the buildings and organisms alike with gray.

There was a long silence. Overhead, mutalisks, guardians, and overlords wheeled above the site without making a sound. Vorchlings across the planet fell to their knees in the direction of the crater. Even the asari knew something was deeply wrong; the cries of their children had quieted across the planet. Thessia held its breath.

Then, from the ruins, a massive tendril extended into the air and curled, its carapace stiff and thick. Another followed suit, then two more. A great maw began to slaver, a great eye opened. Daggoth gazed up, at long last, at the face of his Father.

**"I… am… MANIFEST." **The tendrils quivered, and a sonic boom made the air quake. Smoke was pushed away from Armali. The final defenders, those who had survived the Overmind's coming, found they could not survive Its waking. They clutched their heads and fell, their psionic sensitivity, dull as it was, frying their brains at the immensity of the Being before them.

**"It is not Aiur. It is not as written. But the intention was met. That the Zerg Swarm would consume, and grow strong enough to end the wretched cycle." **Through Daggoth's mind, through the mind of every Cerebrate, the great eye flashed, crimson and fleshy and unblinking. **"Now, here, I am bathed in Element Zero. Soon, my twin psionics and biotics, will be able to REND PLANETS APART."** The ground shook, and the tendrils sparked blue. The air around the Overmind distorted with the shifting energies. **"Today marks the first step. Today, the galaxy will begin to realize We come not to consume and conquer. They will come to realize that they are not victims. They are family. They are as inextricably entwined with the zerg destiny as We. And when they fall to us, they become My children. And I will brook no threat to My children." **The sound of thunder filled the air as Father tested his biotics again, this time seeming a little stronger. **"The Citadel will be undone. The protoss will be Ours. The Reapers will die. Then…"** Father's voice shook with emotions – pride, happiness, and a deep, all-consuming sense of _relief. It is done. Father it is done._

**"…then, we will be **_**perfect.**_**"**

Far away on Therum, Daggoth and the chrysalis trembled in tandem as Abathur looked on, ever dispassionate. At last, at long last, Daggoth, greatest of the Overmind's children, witnessed the face of his Father.

And it was good.


	35. Before the Push

**James**

_Did they build this? _That was the question that continued to vex Jim as he saw more and more of the Citadel. The place was enormous, and moreover, almost immaculate. Until now, Jim had been under the impression that his own people were unafraid of building big things – siege tanks and CMC armor dwarfed the Council's equivalents – but he was starting to rethink that. _More to this than I know._

The brief treatments given by Kerrigan and that strange lizard doctor had been mostly effective at fixing up his leg, but he still shook slightly when he walked. The hospitals (_they have room for multiple hospitals here?_) were apparently filled with victims created by the zerg and geth attack, so he had quite happily waved off the attempts to send him in for further treatment. _Someone else is gonna need it more._

Jim had spent most of his time hobbling around the Presidium while escorted by a grim-faced Sarah. The place had been cleaned up relatively quickly by the station's security and the strange bugs known as "keepers," and Jim wanted to get as much time in alone before the next crisis. _Until the push against the zerg. That was the plan, wasn't it? Hope Tassadar don't mind us coming along._

The Presidium was remarkable. A false blue sky complete with clouds had been set overhead, but thanks to the sheer height of the interior, it didn't actually feel unnatural. Waterways ran throughout the base of the Presidium, filling the background with the reassuring and familiar sounds of liquid trickling by. _Place is robust, too. Didn't take that much damage in the attack._ High above were various offices where the alien politicians played their little games.

"That's where they're going to set up the terran embassy," Sarah had said during one of their brief stops, pointing to a far-off balcony. "Udina's already up there. He's trying to pretend we don't exist, for the moment." _Huh. So I guess it ain't just gonna be alien politicians from here on out._

_Norad II_ was still accompanying the protoss fleet, and was currently assisting with rescue efforts. Matt had been beyond relieved to see that both Sarah and Jim had made it, though he was disappointed that no one else had made it through Ilos's tunnel run.

"We can't take too many losses like this, sir," he had said, all too deferential for Jim's liking. "People who support our cause are going to be few and far between. Not many are going to be willing to oppose both the Protectorate and Mengsk."

_Another reason to get to saving lives, then._ Jim gritted his teeth as he hobbled around the corner and came face to face with a trio of marines in combat armor, all staring directly at him. _Not Protectorate or Umojan. Mercenary colors._

The merc in the middle stepped forward, his armor emblazoned with several phrases Jim knew were all too common to marines: "BAMF," "Get sum," and a stylized "God'll know his own!"

"Heard you two were staggerin' about down here," said the marine through his visor, sounding strangely familiar. "Would you believe I was actually looking for you?" The visor slid up, revealing a scarred face. _Wait. That merc._

"Zaeed," said Jim, hesitantly. To his right, Sarah gave a nod. _Guess I got that right._

"Goddamn, didn't think we were bound for the same location," said Zaeed, grinning. "Coulda saved some time, took your route. Still got _Norad II_, yeah? Offer's still open."

"I'll pass, thanks," said Jim, unsmiling. "Didn't think KM boys like yourselves would work for Mengsk."

Zaeed openly laughed at this, causing the mercs flanking either side of him to look at him in apparent surprise. Jim shook his head in disgust.

"That's rich," muttered Zaeed, still chuckling. "Mengsk sent out a call to every goddamn merc out there with a ship and some guns, tellin' us that he's turning over what's left of the Confederate treasury to fund one more war. Offer was beyond generous." He leaned forward conspiratorially, looming over the two of them in his suit. "And… there was another offer. Just for the Blue Suns. Barely had to clear it with my partner. Too good to pass up." He looked to Sarah and wiggled his eyebrows. "You know what I'm talkin' about already, don't you?"

"Harper hired him as well," said Sarah, folding her arms. "Didn't take you very long to start playing both sides."

"I get paid, I do what I'm told," said Zaeed, falling back and giving a massive shrug of his shoulders. "I've been reporting back to him – he was quite happy to hear the pair of you were still alive. He wants to talk to you." Zaeed motioned to the subordinate on his right, who pulled out a small device from his belt and nonchalantly flicked it towards Kerrigan. She caught the device easily.

"He pays well," said Zaeed. "Pretty sure he still wants the two of you on his side. I'd think about it."

"I don't think we're motivated by the same things, Zaeed," replied Jim, not trying to hide his disgust. "And I think we're done here."

"Yeah," said Zaeed, apparently losing interest. He and his followers marched off without saying another word. _Makes sense. Job is done. They're going to get paid._ He looked to Sarah, who was carefully examining the device, turning it between her thin fingers.

"Think we should try it out?" asked Jim, checking Kerrigan's face for her reaction. All he could tell was that her lips were pursed in thought.

"I've heard worse ideas," she said, quickly pointing toward a small alleyway and making sure Jim was close behind. When she stopped, her head was cocked, as if hearing something from a great distance. "Something's wrong. I just felt… something's wrong."

"You okay, darlin'?" asked Jim, trying to ignore the twinge in his leg and leaning against one of the alley's walls. Farther down the way was one of the bugs working at a console. _Payin' us no mind. What did Sarah say? That there was nothing inside 'em?_

"There's some panic from upstairs, in the Tower," said Sarah, pressing fingers to her temples and wincing. "Not sure what it's about. But that's not it. There's something else. I felt it when we talked to that zerg thing. Some presence… and its not going away."

"Sounds like it's above my pay grade, darlin'," said Jim, giving her a wide smile. She didn't return it, choosing instead to fiddle with Harper's device before placing it on the floor.

"Let's see what he wants," she said, her voice a little tight, "then I think we should find Tassadar. This isn't right."

The device lit up, but there was nothing for several moments. Jim rubbed some sweat from his face and tried not to think about how much just walking around was tiring him out. _Can only get hurt so many more times before my body really starts to work up some complaints._

After about thirty seconds of silence, Jim was about to suggest turning off the device before a figure suddenly stepped into view. Jim recognized the face, if not the attire.

"Just when I was startin' to get used to seein' you wearin' proper clothing, you back out on me, Jack," said Jim, happier than he thought he'd be at seeing his old magistrate, who had exchanged the Cerberus uniform Jim had least seen him wear in exchange for a handsome looking suit. It was also apparent that he'd had a haircut, as his graying and previously unruly hair had been trimmed and even stylized. _Getting back into being comfortable, commander?_ Almost as if in response, Jack sent back a rueful smile.

"Back on Mar Sara, the people responded to a certain sort of dress," said Jack, shifting his feet. "They preferred simpler, less ostentatious clothing. When we were with Korhal, they preferred their officers to be in uniform as much as possible. Here on Moria, the KMs place a great deal of importance on a well-kempt, even fancy appearance – even if I am unlikely to see much work out in the public anytime soon. It's good to see you two alive."

"You're moving up in the world," said Sarah, tone neutral. "I'm happy for you."

"But cautious," said Jack, dropping the smile. "It's understandable, Sarah. What is less understandable is how you linked up with the protoss; I was not aware they were amenable to an alliance."

"The zerg have them hard-pressed as well," said Sarah, arms folded. "The Council is still sided with the Dominion for similar reasons. Why did you want to speak with us?"

"To bring you a few updates, and make a simple request," said Jack. "One, Mengsk's purge of the Old Families is complete. He brought a psi emitter to bear on Altor V, the place where most of the children and teenagers had been evacuated. I am told there were no survivors." _Wonderful. If the Council knew, would they even care?_ "The only Old Family that still stands is the Mengsks," continued Jack, ignoring Sarah's disgusted noises, "… and of course, a few members of the Lawson family, who I personally accounted for."

"Better than nothing," growled Jim. "Why are you telling us this?"

"I am telling you this because very shortly, I will be one of the very few people opposing Mengsk," said Jack, posture straightening. "The Umojans throwing in with the Dominion is disheartening, but not unsurprising. The UNN channel is back online, and is spewing propaganda 24/7, lulling the populace to an easy sleep. The KMs, meanwhile, are at a loss. Alien markets spell opportunity, but the Dominion got first dibs. It is unlikely they'll share. With the Old Families gone, there is also nothing for Confederate loyalists to rally around."

"I hate to say this," said Jim, grimacing, "I really hate to say this, but Mengsk ain't the real problem right now. He's got troops down here fightin' zerg. That's pretty much what needs doin' right now."

"The zerg problem will solve itself," said Jack dismissively. "They are the natural enemy of all sapient life. I cannot see them standing against a combined alliance of terran, protoss, and Council forces for very long. We need to look to the future-"

"It's going to be a zerg future if we keep fightin' with ourselves," said Jim, not happy with being forced to take this position. "They ain't slowin' down, man. And if we take 'em out, Mengsk won't be able to use them as weapons anymore."

"Do you believe this is true?" asked Jack, looking to Sarah. She returned his query with a very certain nod. "That's unfortunate. I suppose my request will have to wait, then. If the galaxy indeed stands poised to fall, Cerberus will have to take action." He coughed, and then looked away, apparently in thought. "Cerberus managed to recover a sizable number of Confederate databases. One in particular struck my interest – not just because of its title, but because it was marked as having been successfully tested and then being entered into the production stage… just before the fall of Tarsonis. It was called a Psi Disruptor."

Sarah cocked her head, but Jim had frankly no clue what a Psi Disruptor did. From the way Harper announced it, it was clearly important.

"Mengsk talked about it, when Benezia asked about alternatives regarding Tarsonis," said Sarah upon seeing Jim's confusion. "It disrupts zerg communications. I have a feeling… a horrible feeling… that it just became very relevant."

"Lieutenant Duran, one of our few ghosts, mentioned something similar," said Harper, his hand on his chin. "You are quite correct. Upon activation the Disruptor will cause zerg to scatter in disarray. While we have yet to test it ourselves, the Confederacy had conducted sufficient trials with several smaller versions. It is beyond tragic they did not finish a full-sized model in time."

_Damn right. Could have saved two billion lives._

"You've got a finished version, don't you?" said Sarah, not sounding very surprised.

Jack smiled and nodded.

"We're going to need it," she said with bitter certainty. "I have to ask this, Jack, but… what's your price?"

"A promise of assistance against Mengsk as soon as the zerg are dealt with," said Jack without hesitation. "I trust your judgment when you say they are a threat, and so I hope you will do likewise. Any man who is willing to sacrifice billions in pursuit of personal power is no man I would trust to run a nation."

"I was already plannin' on it," said Jim. "I ain't about to forget Tarsonis. What about you, darlin'?"

"If I have my way, I'll be the one to kill him," said Sarah. "I can't really say "no," considering what's at stake. Can you send us schematics?"

"I'll pass them along to Zaeed and he can begin construction," said Jack, suddenly sounding rather smug. "I hope it gives you the edge you need. Use Mengsk for all he's worth, and then head for Moria. I'll be waiting, and I'll use our model over here to try and secure the Koprulu Sector. Good luck to the both of you." His form winked out of sight. Sarah sighed and retrieved the device, securing it to her belt.

"That should help," said Jim. "Right? I mean, he's still on the level."

"I think so." Sarah stared up at the ceiling for a second before sucking in a breath and exhaling slowly. "We're needed at the Tower. Tassadar's there. The zerg have done something. C'mon."

She left without pausing for Jim, and he struggled to keep up with her brisk pace. _Damn, must be serious._ This suspicion was only furthered by the large presence of politicians outside the main elevator to the Tower, all of whom were making very loud and angry noises to the unimpressed C-Sec officers flanking the entrance.

"What's going on?" Jim asked the nearest gesticulating figure – some large fellow with four eyes.

"You're with the terran delegation?" asked the alien back, his voice a low growl. "Get these idiots to let us in. The Council is sworn to protect those under their thumb during catastrophes – and I'm pretty sure the closure of the relays counts as one. Tell them to get out of our way!"

"Hey!" said Jim, waving his arms and moving to the front of the crowd, most of whom parted as the only two terrans present made their intent known. "These folks want answers. Pretty sure the leadership's responsible for givin' 'em. What's the holdup?"

"The Council is in session," said the C-Sec officer on the right, one of the salarian types. "They are not to be disturbed. They permitted your terran ambassador's presence due to his impending admission-"

"This is ridiculous!" bellowed a short, rotund alien with a wheeze. Jim watched with bemusement as this newcomer elbowed his way through everyone else's legs. "The vol-clan have been part of this institution for millennia! We standardized the galactic credit! Our bombers engage the zerg alongside the turians on no less than thirty-four worlds as we speak! How _dare-_"

The volus was drowned out by the further outcry from the rest of the politicians, all of whom were listing their own numerous contributions and sacrifices made by their peoples for the sake of the Council. The two officers starting shifting and fidgeting, growing nervous. Jim couldn't help but notice that they were a salarian and a turian respectively. _Council members. How the hell did Mengsk elbow his way in here?_

"Got a situation at the base of the Tower," the turian said into his headpiece. "Crowd of politicians. They know about the relay situation." Jim knew enough about turians to recognize surprise when he saw it, and the turian was outright alarmed by the response. "All of them? Right away." The officer straightened before calling into the crowd. "Quiet! All races may send one ambassador to the Tower. Din Korlack, Anto, yes, go ahead. You two terrans, the protoss want you. Get in."

Sarah and Jim shuffled in alongside a stream of other aliens. Jim tried not to stare at the strange jellyfish, nor at the large four-legged being that was left to wait for the next elevator due to his size. _Huh. Quite a bit of diversity in the galaxy at large._

"You terrans are receiving far too much special treatment," grumbled the small mole-person on the way up. "Yes, your discovery and alliance with the Council is extraordinary, but it came at the cost of these zerg discovering us. If you were to be admitted to the Council, it should be after the threat is ended, assuming your efforts were satisfactory."

"You're preachin' to the choir, man," said Jim, sighing. "We ain't a part of the folks bein' represented by Udina. That man wants us dead."

"Really?" said the four-eyed alien, unfolding his arms and taking a closer look at Jim. "I heard you were a contentious people, but I at least thought you united. That's not the case?"

"That ain't the case at all," said Jim, trying to figure out which set of eyes to stare into. He was met only with a smug-looking grin.

No one spoke for the rest of the ride, and Jim made a note to ask Sarah what were the names of all their species at a later point. _Probably rude to straight up ask them._

When they filed out of the Tower, it was to find it in a better state than when they had left it about a day and a half ago. The rubble had been removed entirely, and security forces now occupied positions on the stairwell. _Back to life as usual for these folks already. Must be nice, bein' rich._ Jim followed the aliens, staying close to Sarah, who seemed to be deep in thought. Oddly, he caught her glancing behind herself suddenly several times, as if startled by some unexpected loud noise. _Huh. Makes me glad I ain't sensitive._

The Council had reoccupied their positions at the top of the Tower, each standing at a different podium. Before them stood Udina, shifting uneasily between a pair of protoss – one clad in gold, the other in a dark cloak. _Zeratul and Tassadar. Right._ Off to the side was the salarian doctor who was engaging in a hushed conversation with the geth.

"Thank you for finally allowing us to do our jobs, _Councilors_," said the smarmy mole bastard, who had somehow managed to scale the stairs first. "I see the upstart protoss and terrans have already been granted admittance."

"A fine thing, to see one so small be willing to engage a Templar in single combat," said Tassadar, looking down at the creature before him. "That is your desire, is it not? Our customs are quite clear. Very well, I accept your challenge. The time and place, Din Korlack, volus ambassador?"

The volus ambassador took a step backward. "I… how? That was not my intent. Er. Forgive me." If there was any exchange after that, Tassadar did not make it known. Jim and Sarah fell in behind the actual politicians.

"I see Kerrigan and Raynor are determined to remain a part of this," said Udina, lip curling. "Are there any other undesirables the protoss want to bring in?"

"With yourself already being present, I would say we are quite satisfied," said Tassadar, causing Jim to cough into his elbow to hide the laughter. _When'd he grow a sense of humor? And, wait, was he always missing that one brain tentacle of his? _One of the front appendages was shorter, and sealed with a heavy inscribed ring.

"We brought you all here to, well…." Tevos faltered, looking down. _Her hands are shaking. Great._

"Surely news has traveled?" Valern asked, looking down at the array of people before him. "The comm buoys are still up, even if the zerg have somehow disabled the relays. Thessia is being overrun by the Swarm."

A ripple went through the room, though Jim had no real reaction. _That somewhere important? Also, relays. Those matter too, I think._

"Brave Raynor," said Tassadar's voice, only to him. "That is the asari homeworld, the beating cultural heart of this little empire of theirs. Their relays are the main mode of travel. They are trapped and being struck at the place most valuable to them."

_Ah, right. Thanks. _

"There is something more," said Sparatus, quieting the murmuring crowd. "Footage taken by the survivors indicates the presence of new zerg organisms. We were hoping our Koprulu guests could enlighten us." A glowing device appeared on the turian's wrist, and he tapped it a few times. Before the councilors now shone a grainy image, which promptly became animated.

The sound coming from it was deafening. Jim recognized the familiar shrieks of the zerg, but beyond that it was mostly weapons fire, distant explosions.

The footage was apparently being taken from atop a hill, and they were looking down at the smoking ruin before them. A blue face appeared before the camera.

"This is Vela Danir, broadcasting from outside Armali. Something just took out the city – this is what's left. Look!" She left the frame, only her pointing finger still seen. Jim didn't have to follow where it was pointing to see what she was worried about. In the far distance, amidst the ash of the buildings, rose four massive tendrils, spiked and pointed inward. They shifted ever so slightly, and Jim could barely make out some enormous _shape_ from which they were protruding. A wreath of flying zerg crowned it. _That can't be good. Never seen anything that big before._

"Vela – we need to move!" the camera shook as the holder voiced her complaint. "Last evac out was hours ago, and now the city's just, gone! What good is this going to do? They're coming!"

"To whoever hears this, that _thing_ pulses with blue every half hour or so," said Vela, motioning for the camerawoman to follow her as they began climbing the hill. "It kicks up a bunch of dust. It looks like biotics, but I'm praying to the goddess I'm wrong. Alright – Ida, we need to send this out. To whoever gets this – please. Send help."

The video stopped. Jim heard a muttered "Could be doctored" come from the four-eyed ambassador, but otherwise there was nothing. Tevos cleared her throat.

"With the relays out, their plea for help cannot be answered," said Tevos, struggling to keep all emotion out of her voice. "The zerg accessed the Tower, and we are still looking for some kind of workaround."

"The geth have limited knowledge of the Tower due to Old Machine association," said the geth from its corner. "Without appropriate access codes provided, the relays will reset within one galactic week. With creators locked within Rannoch's home system, this is proving doubly problematic."

"The Migrant Fleet has hit Rannoch?!" Sparatus looked ready to spit. "And they're locked in. Spirits… how bad is it?"

"Mutual extinction is guaranteed without swift intervention," said the geth without any emotion that Jim could hear. "The creators have made planetfall. Fighting is heavy. Recommend protoss provide assistance to prevent multiple unnecessary genocides."

"Your plight is noted, friend geth," said Zeratul, leading Jim to believe the protoss had taken the time to implant some translators. _Wish I'd seen it._ "But that Being we witnessed atop the ashes of the asari empire is the true threat. The zerg Overmind has manifested Itself at last."

"You are certain?" Tassadar sounded both frightened and excited, making Jim mentally scratch his head. "Then… this war can be won. The zerg have rendered themselves vulnerable."

"Aside from the fact they've immobilized pretty much everybody," said Sarah. "And the fact that their Overmind is the size of the late Destiny Ascension. Seems to me they've actually been pretty thorough about securing the upper hand before sending It through."

"But It is killable?" asked Sparatus. When Tassadar answered in the affirmative, a gleam set in his eye. "Then it suddenly becomes much more simple. We kill that thing, we kill the zerg, right?"

"It is no small thing, to slay a god," said Zeratul. "Getting to Thessia is currently… challenging. And the Overmind is no mere creature of the material, a mundane being of flesh. Only a Dark Templar can slay It."

"He means a very specific type of protoss warrior," said Tassadar, jumping in quickly. "Of which, we only have six present. The Overmind must be slain by one of their blades."

"Blades?" Valern was more than puzzled. "I would have thought melee combat would be… oh never mind."

"We brought you all here to ask for your support," said Tevos, her eyes still fixed on the frozen image of the pleading asari. "If and when the relays come back online, we need every ship and soldier we can throw at Thessia. The planet hasn't fallen yet, and if this is indeed the driving zerg intelligence…."

"That's rich," said the four-eyed alien. "I cannot recall the last time the Council has ever offered anything to the Batarian Hegemony, and now suddenly you're asking for favors?" All eyes were on the apparently batarian ambassador, who just laughed. "Don't get the wrong idea, we'll be sending all we can. But can we just for a moment recognize this system for what it is? Parasitic?"

"I second that!" yelled Din Korlack. "The vol-clan have bled across countless worlds, funded entire armies, and yet we are barred from the very Council we helped establish!"

"There will be reformations," said Valern, looking to his two councilors with meaning. "But right now, we are pressed. If Thessia falls, the repercussions will be… severe."

"The Hegemony hasn't been hit hard," said the batarian. "Two of our fleets are already prepped; we can send them your way. And then we can have a nice chat about membership."

"The vol-clan stands with the Hierarchy," said Korlack. "We will back their actions."

"This one promises whatever aid he can," said the jellyfish with a curiously lilting voice. Jim found himself backing away slightly.

"We are already promised, Duke will do what you say," said Udina, sounding a little gleeful. _Kinda hard not to share that glee. Send Duke to deal with that Thing._

"The geth have no more to spare," said the geth. "All troops must be diverted to Rannoch as soon as possible to avert extinction. Victory over zerg meaningless to the geth if the geth do not survive to see it. We request Council aid."

"This is not a good time for it," said Sparatus dismissively, lighting a spark of rage in Jim. The geth's head flaps shifted as it looked up at the Council. "We are grateful for geth assistance, but we cannot chase down the quarians while the relays are locked down. We'll get to it." He redirected his attention to Tassadar. "You're the real question. You got to the Citadel quickly enough. Can you replicate that feat to reach Thessia?"

Tassadar's eyes burned as he stared up at the people he was supposedly obligated to save.

"Alone, yes, my own fleet could reach Thessia in minutes," he said after a pause. "But we would be swiftly overwhelmed. There are ways to bring numerous other ships with us, but most of them require the Judicator caste – and there are none with us." _Yeah. The protoss politicians. Except they actually sound a bit useful._

"There are no alternatives?" asked Sparatus.

"The Mothership could be overloaded, burning up the crystal lattice for a surge of energy," said Tassadar. "This would mean the destruction of both the ship and its pilot. We would be sacrificing a significant element of our fleet… but time and space would mean nothing. We could bring all of your ships to bear on Thessia. I am not certain this is the correct call. I recommend Purification."

Silence descended. Tevos was mouthing something over and over, while Sparatus looked at Valern, trying to gauge his reaction. Jim, for his part, wasn't going to keep his mouth shut.

"Tassadar," said Jim, his voice carrying clearly through the chamber. "Tell me – if that were your planet down there – Aiur, right – if that were Aiur down there, would you be considerin' this?"

"It is different," said Tassadar. "The protoss homeworld is without compare."

"Palaven shines like liquid gold in the summer," said Sparatus, tone calm. "I have seen firsthand the jungle gardens of Sur'kesh, heard the thunder of her cascading waterfalls. And I walked in the now destroyed Armali, and marveled at the architecture of the Temple of Athame, at the gentle nature of the people there. Every homeworld is filled with wonder, Tassadar, for it is the culmination and testament of every species' character. If you would dismiss us so casually, then I suspect your own homeworld reflects that callousness."

"You overstep your bounds," said Zeratul. "Aiur was touched by the xel'naga. None of you can claim such a legacy. Regardless, this conversation is without merit. Purification requires several ships in close formation, left undisturbed. The zerg will not allow it."

_Probably a bad time to bring up the Psi Disruptor, then._ Jim then remembered Tassadar could read minds. _Aw, hell._

"James Raynor and Sarah Kerrigan have brought a new weapon to bear," said Tassadar, looking back at the two terrans. "It prevents the zerg from communicating with one another. It would provide the opening we need."

"Destroying Thessia is _not_ an option," said Tevos fiercely. "There are people down there – billions of them – fighting for survival. I will not let you undo thousands of years of history just because it is expedient! Give us a chance!"

"Tassadar," said Zeratul. "Remember Char. You sought a quick strike against the zerg, thinking yourself superior to all, prepared for any contingency. The Overmind knows we are here. It knows we alone can strike against It. Do you think It is unprepared for us?"

"I remember well my mistakes, Prelate," replied Tassadar, bowing his head. "I see the wisdom in your words. But how can sacrificing our Mothership be justifiable if there is a chance for failure? The bulk of the invading force will not be protoss – it will be asari, turian, salarian, terran. Do you think they can give you the opening you need to strike?"

"The protoss peoples have stood divided for millennia," said Zeratul, voice low. "Our contact with other sapient races has always ended in tragedy. The Firstborn have occupied a lonely place in the galaxy while these races have united. Their histories do not run nearly as thickly with the bloods of their own people. Can they break through the zerg lines? It is beyond the knowing of this simple Templar. But I do know that they have earned the right to try."

"Then let it be so."

_Thank God._ Jim's sentiment was shared by the reactions of the councilors – Tevos in particular had closed her eyes and began murmuring some fervent prayer. Jim looked at Kerrigan and gave her a small smile. _Basic decency winning out. Of course, we all still might get wiped out, but..._

"Please – if you could all inform your respective militaries that we are beginning a plan of attack?" The crowd dispersed at Tevos's words, though the terrans and protoss remained with the councilors, while the doctor and geth still huddled together at the side. Jim strode up to Tassadar and looked up at him.

"Thanks man. It ain't easy doin' the right thing." _Know that from damn experience._

"This is not a matter of maintaining our morality, James Raynor," said Tassadar. "Victory is paramount. Whatever offers the greatest chance of success against the Overmind is the right one. This Psi Disruptor… do you trust Jack Harper?"

_Hard to get used to mind readers. Sarah's far more rigorous about letting others keep their privacy. Well, people she likes at least._

"He doesn't want to see us fail," said Sarah before Jim could respond. "We can trust him in this."

"So," said Udina, arms folded, facing Sarah and Jim. "The moment Mengsk is informed of your presence is the moment I will be told to have you killed. I am still trying to create a workaround, but it's not pressing. I understand Mengsk is now rather occupied by a sudden bout of completely unprovoked Kel-Morian aggression." _Excuse us while we fight the urge to laugh._ "You needn't worry about Duke, Mengsk made it quite clear about not wanting to hear from him. So, until that fateful day, let's just stay away from one another. Now…." Udina addressed the councilors. "Our armada is of course, at your disposal. You will need to speak to General Duke about troop deployment. I'll try to convince him not to start a diplomatic incident. If you'll excuse me."

Udina left, likely to the relief of everyone in the room. The councilors stared down at the remaining terrans.

"We'll get you that Psi Disruptor," said Jim. "Should help get troops on the surface. I know killin' that Thing is gonna be priority, but I'd prefer to get my crew doin' rescue if possible. Think we can do that?"

"At least someone is volunteering," said Tevos, offering a weak smile. "We would be delighted… and indebted. I can think of a perfect solution to Udina's problem. We owe much to the two of you already, for bringing the protoss to us. Thank you."

"Councilors Citadel," cried out the geth. "The geth face extinction. Knowledge of the Old Machines is at risk of being lost. It is also at risk of being considered superior to current directives. Please. Mordin Doctor recommends dispatching message to Quarian High Command. Instruct them to stop. Please. They must stop."

"We can do this, but there is no guarantee our order will be heeded," said Valern. "Rest assured, the Migrant Fleet has overstepped themselves this time. We will not hold back, if it comes to that."

"Tassadar promises to help repair the damage, young machine," said Zeratul. "Though you can hear him not, know that he finds you beautiful."

"The geth… are thankful." The machine retreated. _Probably doesn't know what to make of that. Hell, if Tassadar told _me_ I was beautiful, I don't think I'd handle it that gracefully._

"There are preparations to be made," said Sparatus. "Tassadar, we will shortly establish a QEC conference and draw up the plan of battle. We must move quickly. We take our leave." And they did.

Jim turned to Sarah, who looked more tired than he had ever seen her.

"Chances of success, darlin'?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"Better than Tarsonis, Jim," she said. "Time to wake up from this nightmare."

"Indeed," said Tassadar, striding towards them and bowing deeply. "You have been honorable, in your own way, and you have not disgraced yourselves in the field of battle. In these coming hours, I consider myself beyond blessed to know I am fighting alongside allies such as you. En taro Adun, brave terrans. I will alert my battle commanders to meet with the alien leaders. The time of the zerg draws to a close."


	36. Victus

**Adrien**

Adrien was looking at an overview of Thessia on a haptic map with about half a dozen other leaders, wondering how in the Spirits a day like this could come to pass. _We are launching a counterattack on the homeworld of a Council species. Thessia. _Judging by the body language of the others seen through the QECs, similar thoughts were running through their head.

"The biggest outlier is that damn terran device's capability," said the Hierarchy Second Fleet General Desolas for about the eighth time. "Assuming it works, it is definitely a force multiplier. But by how much? How well was it tested? And how will those brains on the surface affect its abilities, if at all?"

"I say disregard it," replied Admiral Dekeer of the Batarian Hegemony. "Among my people, we believe preparing for a worst case scenario to be the most intelligent course of action. If you're wrong, you're pleasantly surprised. If you're right, then you're prepared. Assume it does nothing." _A glance at the Hegemony's political history indicates that this is not a line of thinking commonly held by your leaders. Still, in this case it makes sense._

"That might be best," said Adrien, marveling that in the same day he was to attack Thessia, he would also agree with a batarian. "At the worst, the device will do nothing. At the best, our attack will have more effect. Just leave it out."

"That don't help me none," mumbled General Duke. The oaf was seated to Victus's left, and had apparently been given explicit instructions to make as little noise as possible during the proceedings. Now, eyes were on him. "What? I prefer to let my boys know how bad it is before we drop. Gives me a better idea of how to ration alcohol and deploy nuclear weapons."

The single asari admiral who was available opened her mouth to speak, but someone else got there first.

"Nuking Thessia is not an option," said the sole salarian admiral present, one Admiral Herron. Adrien had little experience with salarian facial expressions, but he could read between the lines of that sentence. _Not an option at present._ The reports and live feeds from the planet were becoming increasingly infrequent, and the Sixth Fleet had abandoned the system entirely until the reinforcements arrived. _So the zerg won't be too softened up._

"Assume it is bad," said General Desolas. "Assume it is very bad. How did you put it, Executor?"

Desolas, to Adrien's surprise and slight delight, was proving extremely accommodating to the protoss representative, who was reciprocating with unanticipated gusto. _He could have been a politician. Smooth things over with the protoss well enough, and he might be the next primarch._

"You are bearing witness to the zerg's god," said Artanis. "You must treat this battle with the severity it deserves. Victory ends the zerg. Defeat ends the galaxy. But we will not be defeated."

"Draw up the battle lines, then," said Admiral Herron, a little exasperated. "Chest pounding and bravado, yes, yes, all good. But it takes some actual planning to get the work done."

"War is in our bones, admiral," said Adrien lightly. "The protoss have proven themselves likewise accomplished. Do not talk down to us. I find a reassurance of victory to be personally refreshing."

"Worst case scenario," said Dekeer cheerfully. "Remember, we're dealing with a worst case scenario." Most of the room ignored him.

"The fleet movements are going to be nigh impossible to organize once we're on site," said Desolas. "Every time we've tangled with these bastards it has ended in a simple order to shoot anything that moves. Victus, do you agree?"

"The zerg are highly mobile and adaptable," said Adrien, thinking back to Tarsonis and Mar Sara. "They force engagements that are favorable to them and very costly to move out of. By admitting that space combat must devolve into some… action vid nonsense, it is likely playing into their hands. How much success has the Asari Sixth Fleet had with their tactics?"

"The hit and runs?" Desolas sounded incredulous, but then his glowing form shifted its mandibles, thinking. "They took relatively few losses, from what I saw, and downed a few of the leviathans. The zerg move fast over short stellar distances, but have difficulty crossing larger ones. And their range is… pitiful. The issue is surviving that initial charge."

"We can organize our fleets to provide strafing runs," said Admiral Herron, now actually sounding eager. His hands were pressed against some unseen console, and he leaned forward in excitement. "Make short jumps once the zerg close the distance. But… while this will save ships and lives, it won't open the way to the planet's surface. You are certain orbital bombardment will not kill the Overmind?" The salarian addressed this last part to Artanis.

"It is beyond certain," said Artanis sternly, barely shifting. "It is an eldritch being, the likes of which have not been seen before, and hopefully ever again. Assaulting it only serves to further enrage the zerg and give them time to close to your ships. It will take a ground assault of legendary proportions to open the way to the Beast."

"Then you'll need the best," said Dekeer. "That means the protoss, first. We're not stupid. Then you'll want us to stiffen the lines, and those terrans for their infantry."

"Our infantry is third best?" Duke snorted. "Don't know what you four eyes are packing, but it better be damned impressive if you're passin' over General Duke."

"I'm bringing in the SIU," growled Dekeer. "Our troops train extensively in CQB. We don't have your armor, but we can actually hold our own up close."

"It matters not," said Artanis, causing Duke to shut his mouth and instead begin scowling. "The protoss will hold the line and gladly accept the assistance of the le- of Council forces. Where do we strike?"

"Thessaly," said Desolas firmly, marking the now ravaged city. "It is fully overrun, but the zerg have demonstrated time and time again that evacuating civilians is exactly what they want. Hitting their hive clusters makes them change tactics. We've seen it on Irune and Zada Ban. You want to kill zerg, stop playing defensive. I believe Doctor Mordin Solus said as much."

"A brilliant man," said Admiral Herron, smirking. "But let's wait a moment – how do we plan on getting our ground teams down there?"

"We will open the way," said Artanis. "Backed by the terran battlecruisers to deter scourge, we should be able to root the bulk of the Swarm in place while your other fleets inflict the heavy damage at a safe distance. This will allow us to deploy troops while the zerg orbital defenses are occupied."

"There's going to be heavy casualties," said Dekeer, almost joyfully. "If there is a stage of the battle that could make the most use of the Psi Disruptor, that would be it. Otherwise it will be a bloodbath."

"Don't count it out," said Duke. "It was Confederate tech, and they didn't mess around when it came to weapons of that scope. Trust me." _Never._

"The turians will deploy ground forces as well," said Desolas, stiffening in posture. "Second Fleet already has blooded infantry against the zerg, and we are fully equipped with polonium rounds. And of course, our Jiris fighting vehicles can assist the terran siege tanks with suppression and clear out the air targets." _Jiris fighting vehicles. I could go another three lifetimes without seeing more of those._ Flashes of Taetrus went through Adrien's mind, and his mandibles shifted into a grimace.

"Just stay behind the big guys and you'll be fine," said Dekeer. _And now I am anticipating countless batarian casualties in CQB while the turians and terrans dig in from behind._ The grimace turned into a swiftly-hidden smile. _They are our allies. Control yourself._

"So, securing the landing zone – which is basically all of Thessaly," said Herron, giving every leader a measured glance, "how exactly do we plan on taking it?"

"Raw firepower," said Desolas, and Adrien believed him. "Aside from a combined ground force of turians, batarians, protoss, and terrans already offering considerable might, I plan on taking advantage of General Victus's prowess. Third Fleet may be in shambles, but the survivors are considerably experienced." Desolas's eyes flicked up to look at Adrien, who was barely able to return the stare. _So much I would have done differently. Do not speak highly of my character. Just send me into the fight._ "General, I need what's left of your fleet providing orbital support. You will be close by the terran and protoss fleets. You are to evade zerg fliers and level any and all zerg hardpoints while also intercepting their flying transportation organisms."

"You cannot authorize dreadnought fire on a garden world!" exclaimed Admiral Hera, slamming a fist down on her unseen console. "That is tantamount to saying you do not believe this world can be saved, even if the Overmind is slain!"

"On the contrary, I am trying to maximize her chances of survival," said Desolas, sounding legitimately sympathetic. "We are targeting areas hardest hit. There is little to no chance of friendly fire."

"Just… keep it to where they're nesting," said Hera, sounding quite shaken. The coloration around her eyes indicated either a severe lack of sleep or a great deal of stress. Her scalp even looked like it was turning grey. "What are the plans for evacuation?"

"There were a large number of captains offering their vessels to perform rescue runs," said Desolas, "even a terran military ship has offered its services." Duke noticeably twitched at this. "Unfortunately, there is no way to escape the system. There are other clusters within FTL reach, but all planets in the Athena Nebula are under siege. Evacuation efforts are limited. Either we eliminate the zerg threat and pick up what's left afterward, or we come away with nothing."

"Steel your resolve my friends," said Artanis, directing his fiery gaze to the asari. "Our immediate impulses are to save the innocent – it is the way of righteous souls to feel as such – but our hearts must be hardened. To truly save the lives of your peoples, you must strike out against those that would harm them. To do otherwise… it can lead only to a rout."

"The zerg are ignoring some of the orbital platforms at present," said Adrien gently. "It may be possible to ferry a few survivors out of the fight."

"If the opportunity presents itself," said Herron with a wave of his hand. "Let's be honest, it's doubtful we'll get that chance. Dekeer's policy is probably the best one right now. After Thessaly, then what?"

"Ground push," said Adrien quietly, looking at the overview. "Forty-three miles of former jungle and suburbs, all infested. Two Cerebrates and their accompanied broods are in the way." The image of the terrain flickered on the overview, a great expanse of chittering structures, and Adrien knew he was not alone in trepidation as he stared at the planet's surface. _And at the end of that slog, Armali. Then, the Overmind._ Above the Overmind, Adrien knew, there were countless zerg fliers screaming and wheeling like some shrieking crown. An air approach was impossible. The ground approach… was not much better.

"For once," said Artanis, sounding grim, "I see a fight the Templar will not relish."

"War is not something to be relished," said an exasperated Herron. "What can be expected?"

"Burrowed zerg," muttered General Desolas before clearing his throat. "Hmm, air attacks should ideally still be stymied by a combination of the Psi Disruptor-" (Dekeer snorted at that) "-and our fleet actions. The buildings can easily hide infested vorcha and asari, hydralisks. The trees are mostly gone, so ultralisks won't have any problems moving around. Of course, that means our own armor can advance without difficulty…."

"Praetor Fenix and Tassadar will lead the charge," said Artanis firmly. "They are among the finest Templar to ever grace the Khalai. They will light a beacon of wrath, and the rest of your forces need only follow."

"It's not going to be that easy," grunted Dekeer, this time actually sounding serious. "The terrain isn't flat. There are plenty of hills and you have a lot of ground to cover. If you end up with a train of infantry stretching as far back as the eyes can see, the attrition will be severe. Zerg attacks on the sides, troops falling from exhaustion, burrowed zerg emerging in the middle of companies without warning…."

"We can supply observers," said Artanis. "We will know of the zerg's presence. As for the rest… it is war. The Templar will lead. You will follow as best as you can." _Do the protoss require sleep? How do they eat? _Taetrus flashed behind his eyes again._ It is selfish, but I am quite thankful I will be remaining aboard _Momentum.

"The Cerebrates," said Desolas, looking to Artanis. "They require the Dark Templar's, ah, expertise?"

"Yes, and their deaths are quite necessary." Artanis put his arms behind his back, his armor clanking as he did so. "It will weaken the Overmind, though I fear the efforts may do the same for us. But Tassadar and Zeratul have given the order. It must be done."

"And then, Armali," whispered Hera. Adrien looked to the display. From Armali, the Overmind looked back.

"If we're still intact at that point, it may become as simple as shooting our way through," said Desolas, trying to inject a little optimism into his voice. "The plan at that point will just depend on whoever's left, to put it bluntly. Fortunately, I suspect that even the Overmind will be worn down by that stage."

"That would be nice," said Herron, his voice all cold steel. "What I am seeing is a suicide run."

"For salarians, certainly," said Dekeer. "You like your wars already won for you."

"No, stop!" bellowed Desolas before the admiral could offer a retort. "This… this is what we have. We all have our own roles to play, and none of us will have an easier time of it if we're angrier at each other than the zerg. You've got your orders. Carry them out."

The QECs all winked out save for Desolas, their users going back to commanding their various fleets. _All across the galaxy, waiting for the protoss to make the first move._ Duke sighed and stood, stretching his arms while Desolas, Adrien, and Artanis watched.

"We got a shit job ahead of us," he said with some venom. "The boys on the ground have to wade through the zerg's nerve center, while those up above will be bled by inches by their fliers. I don't wanna hear any whinin' about Council seats when this is done, y'hear?" When no one responded, he grunted and sauntered out. Adrien suspected he was about to go get very drunk, however inadvisable that might be. _I hope I'm wrong._

"I was not present when we made first contact," said Artanis, "but I regret that our initial meeting was… hostile. Tassadar and I share the hope that, following this battle, our peoples might coexist in, if not harmony, than at least peace."

"We would like that," said Desolas, dipping his head. Artanis returned the gesture before disappearing into a blue haze. That just left the two battered turian generals.

"Feel free to demote me," said Adrien, voice quite hollow. "Not now, but when and if this is done, if we're both still standing. I botched the Koprulu operation."

"You were told to assist a man who later ended up claiming himself emperor of the terran race and murdering several billion of his own people," replied Desolas. "I suspect some of this blame can be left on the people who told you to trust him. Not all, but some. It is not coincidental that your mission is probably the most dangerous. You will be close to the zerg throughout the process, but must rely on terran and protoss support. You will be unable to fire back."

"Considering the ships we have left, Third Fleet is probably the best suited for this," said Adrien. "This is a chance for redemption, and I thank you for it. But… my son, Tarquin. I have not heard from him."

"I had something arranged," said Desolas, warmth creeping into his voice. "You came through on your end? I was hoping to dissuade him from… this. Tarsonis was enough."

"If you could dissuade him, he would not be your brother," said Adrien, before inclining his head. "And… thank you. It will be only a minute." Adrien lifted his head and brought up the haptic keyboard for the QEC, tapping it a few times. Desolas faded, swiftly replaced by a new image. The turian on the other end was smaller, for Tarquin had always been small for his age. He got it from his mother, much to his dismay. Adrien had never cared. _The krogan are larger than us, and we beat them._

"Dad?" Tarquin's voice broke through the other end. His figure shimmered, and for one thoughtless moment Adrien thought the QEC was breaking up. This was of course, nonsense. Tarquin's form steadied, and it became clear that he was confused. "Is that you?"

"Of… of course." Adrien looked at his son, bearing fresh officer marks on his uniform. _That's new. He's been advancing while I was away, following in his parent's footsteps. Or… perhaps people above him have died. _Still, he could not help but feel proud. "I… where are you? I didn't get all the details. Are you safe?" _Stupid question. Relays are locked out. No one is safe._

"I'm on Digeris," said Tarquin, causing a wave of relief to flow through Adrien. _Close to Palaven. Thank the Spirits._ "We were about to get shipped out to Zada Ban, but everything's stopped. I heard they sent you to the Koprulu Sector –"

"Listen to me," said Adrien quite clearly, in a tone of voice he had rarely used with his son. Tarquin fell silent. "We don't have very much time. When this is over, you will hear things about what happened out there, with the terrans. If it is unflattering, it is likely true. But I want you to disregard that. I just…" Adrien paused, trying to think about what he wanted to say. _It all sounds so dramatic. There's really only one thing I want to say. Seeing his face… that was the main thing._

"I'm proud of you," said Adrien. "When I think of my accomplishments, they're all just… messy. Taetrus. Surviving the Koprulu Sector. All those Terminus skirmishes. It was just blood and noise. Watching you walk for the first-"

Tarquin coughed, and Adrien realized he was going a little too far. _Making my son nervous._ _He realizes something is very wrong. He has to believe – I have to believe that I will walk out on the other side._

"I have one last bit of blood and noise to deal with," said Adrien simply, "and then it will be your turn to take up the banner. I am beyond certain that you are ready. Die for the cause."

"Die for the cause," said Tarquin, before cocking his head. "I've read the reports and seen some of the footage, but is it that serious?"

"There's a… reason your deployment was cancelled," said Adrien. "This is not the time. Stay safe. I'll see you on the other side."

"I… yes. I'll see you soon," said Tarquin, a little confused. The image flickered and died, and Adrien watched his son fade into embers. _A little selfish. I think I needed that more than he did. I only hope I can ask for forgiveness later._

Saren was waiting outside. Adrien nodded to him, and was stopped by an outstretched hand.

"He is trying to convince me to stay here, isn't he? With Janus?" Saren didn't wait for a reply. "You could have given him my answer for me."

"I did, but he's a bit stubborn," said Adrien. "Seems to be an Arterius trait. You cannot fault him for being worried, considering what you've been through."

"I would plant the emitter again if I had to," snapped Saren. "I followed orders. We got our alliance. It was costlier than I had hoped but –"

"Just talk to him," said Adrien, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. "You are certain you want to be on the ground?"

"I missed my chance to kill zerg on Tarsonis," said Saren, sounding almost feverish, "not this time." _I think the Arterius family reunion is going to be less productive than the Victus'._

They said nothing more, parting ways for what might be the last time. Adrien was bound for the bridge while Saren would be loaded on to a terran battlecruiser, to be deployed via dropship as fast as physically possible. _Shame the turians still don't have those marine suits. Drop pod would be safer._ _Relatively speaking._

Adrien stopped by his cabin on the way up. It was still decorated with the ridiculous volus artwork that Janus so loved. _It probably just went up in value._ That made him feel sad, and he had never felt much of anything for either volus or art before. _It's because things are changing. The old rules don't mean anything anymore. Everything's different. A relay opened, the protoss flew on through… that's what started all this. _

_Well then. I suppose it is up to me to end it._

For the first time since Tarsonis, Adrien stood proudly up on the bridge. When he announced the mission to the remnants of the Third Fleet, there was no protest. General Janus might have given in and elected to remain and help rebuild the Citadel (_meaningless at a time like this_) but the rest of Third Fleet was determined to see this through. _This should be… cathartic._

"I doubt a force of this size and variety will ever band together again," said Adrien. "Stand proud. Much of this was the doing of Third Fleet. We may fall today, but our actions will be burned into the minds of those that witnessed them. Die for the cause."

"Die for the cause!" It was less enthusiastic than Adrien was used to, but more people joined in than he would otherwise have suspected. _We are turian. We might be overshadowed at this hour, but it will be our ships and troops that make the difference in the end. I feel it. In my bones._

"This is Executor Artanis," said a familiar voice through the minds of all present, "I am relaying communications from the other leaders. Beginning preparations. Udun says he is ready. The mothership is primed."

"Admiral Dekeer, the Hegemony is ready to prove its worth."

"Admiral Hera, ready since Thessia was first hit. No more waiting."

"General Duke, let's get this over with."

"General Desolas, die for the cause."

"Admiral Herron, sound the charge and… hold the line."

"Raynor here," causing Adrien to start with surprise. "What? C'mon darlin', I couldn't resist."

"General Victus. For Palaven," said Adrien clearly. "For Thessia. For Tarsonis. Let's end this."

"Praetor Udun!" bellowed Artanis, causing Adrien to shiver despite himself. "You have slain a Reaper! You have seen the battlefields of Kalath, of Braxis, of Chau Sara, of Char and Ilos! Long will we tell tales of your honor and courage! Now… give us one last moment of bravery!"

If Udun made a reply, Adrien didn't get to hear it. The LADAR indicated that the mothership had faded away. Now all they could do was wait. _It's nonsense. Waiting for the damn protoss to work their space magic to save us..._

A minute went by. Then another. The turians on the bridge muttered to one another, and it was not to offer reassurance or encouragement. Adrien maintained his stiff bearing and stared straight ahead. _Please. Don't let this fail at the very beginning stages._

"Commence dimensional recall." _Those words – I never thought I would find them reassuring. Or even uttered, honestly. But here we are._

Everything seemed to bend and stretch. Adrien looked at his hands and found them elongated beyond measure. All that he saw was becoming suffused in a soft blue light. _Space magic nonsense…_ _not that there is any use in denying their capabilities. _Just as Adrien began considering how pretty everything was, it all snapped back into place, and the LADAR lit up with countless signatures.

"Praise Udun!" cried Artanis from his ship. "Battle is joined!"

"Third Fleet, you have your coordinates, begin jump!" Adrien wasted no time. The terrans and protoss signatures had already flickered and moved. Zerg were converging on their location. _Is the Psi Disruptor doing anything?_

"Activating Psi Disruptor," said the terran Adrien vaguely knew as Matt Horner, answering his question. "Three… two… one…."

Third Fleet jumped. Their ships were now facing directly downward, their guns facing the planet's surface. Around them, the zerg closed in… and then began to scatter.

"We got our funnel!" cried Matt. "Send them in, send them all in! Go, go!"

The Hegemony ships had closed the distance as well. LADAR indicated that the other fleets were now engaging the zerg at extreme range; Asari Sixth Fleet had even made a reappearance. The terrans were raining drop pods and troop transports upon Thessaly, and _Momentum_ was training its guns. _Our turn, you bastards._

"Give me a firing solution!" bellowed Adrien. It was given. "Fire until there's nothing left! Clear the way for the ground forces!"

_Momentum_ shuddered as it unleashed its payload. For the first time in memory, a dreadnought fired on a garden world. Below, the zerg disappeared in a cloud of ash, many of their structures vanishing in a haze of orange.

"Confirmed hit!" yelled an aide, but Adrien paid him no mind, watching the impacts of the few cruisers and frigates left to him. _This should be the volus's job, but Spirits know I earned this position._

He looked at the display of Thessia and shuddered. _And there are worse positions to be in._

"Zerg are breaking away for the other fleets," reported an aide, "but they're closing in. Psi Disruptor did its job, I guess, but they're just too thick here."

"We've got our orders," said Adrien, sounding more confident than he felt. "Hold here. We bomb Thessaly, we bomb that damnable stretch of wasteland, then we bomb the Overmind. Got it? We are on overwatch. Intercept the overlords, but otherwise pay the zerg fliers no attention." He looked back down at Thessia. _It's nice that we have that luxury, assuming the others can cover for us. Good luck Saren. Raynor. Tassadar._

The battle of Thessia was joined.


	37. Khundelar

**Tassadar**

Tassadar materialized while the air boiled around him. Heat and light blasted his face at about the same time the noise hit him, and he took the briefest of moments to survey his surroundings. All around him were the familiar and solid forms of his fellow Templar, who were shouting into the Khala with a mix of trepidation and excitement as they were at last allowed to meet the enemy in fully direct terms. _It is good that their spirits hold. Being part of the Khundelar is no easy task._ Although, gladdened by their enthusiasm, everything else Tassadar saw made his hearts skip beats.

Ash fell from the skies. This side of Thessia was approaching dusk, and the heavens had taken on a dull, burnt orange. The infested ground they stood on felt thick and scaly, and stuck faintly to the undersides of Tassadar's armored boots. The buildings nearby made Tassadar feel sick – they were composed of soft curves and were clearly made with aesthetics in mind, making him realize as he stared at the scabrous zerg growths upon them just what kind of loss Thessia could end up being for the asari people as a whole, for the galaxy as a whole. _If they lose their way… it will be our fault._

There was no time for such ruminations. The protoss war machines materialized all around them, and the handfuls of scouts that Artanis could spare flashed by, gathering all the data they could on the march ahead. Their allies were deploying all over Thessaly – the terrans using primitive launching methods, the Council forces via dropship. The air periodically screamed with the terran's fresh arrivals, and Tassadar could feel the countless minds scattering and panicking as they faced their foe. _Now is the time._

"Templars!" bellowed Tassadar, louder than he had ever shouted before, causing the Khala to still. "We have our rally point! Push to the Thessaly central hive cluster and burn it!" Tassadar, grimacing in preparation, activated his solitary warp blade. It glowed a vibrant green, the air around it shimmering with the heat. Ignoring the strain, he pointed to the west, down the destroyed streets of Thessaly and toward a great deal of motion.

With a cacophony of clanks, the zealots followed closely behind him. He heard some wondering why he took to the ground with the lesser troops and what kind of weapon he now wielded, but they were not disapproving. He had, after all, lead them to the most glorious battle they would ever likely witness.

"This is General Victus," said the turian from his craft high above. "We're holding high orbit, defensive lines appear steady and the Psi Disruptor is still active. You've got large numbers of ground organisms converging on Thessaly all over the planet. We'll make it difficult for them, but you need to move fast. Barrage incoming."

Tassadar heard the shots long before they pounded the fouled earth. The air began reeking ever more strongly of burned flesh.

"They come!" The cry went up. Hot joy mixed with the occasional jolt of fear shot through the Khala. From behind allies, from below the ground, hissing from the windows of now pulsing asari buildings, the zerg looked upon their foe with a searing hate that chilled Tassadar's spirit. The horde of protoss paused, looking to their leader.

"They are the Second Born!" cried Tassadar. "Fighting them goes beyond our birthright, beyond our duty, beyond our nature! While one of our peoples stand, the other cannot! The Khala is our strength! Reavers, colossi! Attack!"

With a surge of heat, the air boiled as the colossi began their assault. Tassadar ran full pelt across the zerg Creep, the surface of it churning as the Templar advanced. The dragoons followed close behind, and soon Tassadar found himself outpaced by phase disruptor blasts and scarabs. Tassadar heard distant impacts before the ground beneath his feet opened up and he almost tripped. The zerg were among the ranks.

Tassadar struck the hydralisk across the face, cutting it in twain with a diagonal slash. Hot red blood gushed from the wound while its left mandible flew from the creature in a crimson arc. With his other hand, Tassadar grasped a leaping zergling, holding it aloft with telekinesis before crushing it with a clenched fist. His shields flared and he staggered before turning to face his new foe.

This hydralisk stood taller than most others Tassadar had seen, though he knew it was not a hunter killer. Its scales, normally a putrid brown interspaced with colored brood markings, were instead a faintly glowing aqua. Tassadar grunted as he brought his blade to bear. The hydralisk lowered its head, flaps opening.

Tassadar leapt forward, and the hydralisk glowed suddenly with blue. The spines that leapt out actually _stung_ through the shields as Tassadar charged, bringing the blade in a swooping arc. After a moment's resistance the hydralisk fell neatly into two halves, but Tassadar's shields had almost completely collapsed. _What in the name of Adun was that?_

Around him, Tassadar's zealots began to falter. Zerg glowed blue and resisted the cuts of their psi blades, shrugged off glancing scarab impacts that normally would have liquefied them. Tassadar watched, horrified, as one zealot's shields collapsed under the blows of some infested biped and he was yanked backward in a sudden surge of blue, pulled into the roiling horde. _These are not psionics. What fresh hell is this?_

The zerg that had burrowed up from below were thinning out, but others were rushing in from every direction, even behind the colossi. The rear guard held the line while the dragoons moved back to provide assistance, but Tassadar's advance found itself stymied. The slug-like reavers had expended their scarabs and were now frantically refilling, and the colossi, fearsome as they were, simply did not have the raw firepower to carry the fight this time. _This is not Ilos – that was a mere skirmish. This is the zerg close to the apex of their power. I shudder to think how they will develop if given more time to establish themselves._

Tassadar's shields, barely having recovered, suddenly flickered and almost died as a loud, horrible thudding penetrated his ears. Throwing himself to the side and looking to the blood-soaked ground, it was to find foot-and-a-half long serrated spines sticking out of the area from which he had just left. _Not hydralisks. What is this?_

"Tassadar! Far behind!" A nearby zealot, shields down, bleeding from several wounds, pointed to the back of the still advancing zerg. Swatting aside a zergling, Tassadar directed his focus. In the distance, great lumbering quadrupeds with a fan of appendages displayed behind them lashed out repeatedly, propelling the spikes at dizzying speed. _These are new._

"Colossi! Engage the quadrupeds!" Tassadar charged again, backed by a cadre of High Templar. "Psi storms, here!"

Tassadar relished the feeling of the Khala boiling with near uncontrolled wrath, rejoiced in the sensation of merging with his fellow Templar – though he noted with some anxiety that it was slightly dulled. _It was only a single appendage. I am still one with my brothers._

A great mass of zerg disappeared in clouds of blood as one of the largest psi storms Tassadar had ever witnessed materialized in their path. Reinvigorated, Tassadar followed the endpoint of the colossi's beams, a mass of bloody and screaming Templar behind him.

This time, the zerg line wavered. They were pouring in from all directions and their new abilities were deadly beyond belief, but they had clearly not been expecting a ground assault, particularly one of this magnitude. Tassadar listened in on his other allies as his warp blade sliced through carapace and sinew, again and again.

"Captain Filuk, SIU second company," reported a batarian leader. "Got biotic zerg, but gauntlets and submission nets are proving effective. Casualties are about what we expected, making for the protoss."

"Major Darius, Hierarchy third division! We've lost too many vehicles and are encountering biotic zerg backed by infested elcor! Requesting air support!" _The turians seem hard pressed._ Adrien Victus was quick to respond, though Tassadar did not listen in further.

"This is Lieutenant Kerrigan, we've linked up with Umojan forces but are locked down by sunken colonies. Look for the orange flare and send either tank or air support!"

"Asari third company. Never thought we'd have to employ anti-biotic tactics against the zerg, but here we are. Found a handful of survivors and are closing in on the hive cluster."

The message their allies sent was clear. _Experiencing_ _heavy resistance, but they are determined to win through. We must not let them down. I suppose those new abilities of the zerg are biotics..._

The zerg were falling away before their onslaught, the sweeping beams of the colossi finally carving a path through their resistance. The strange artillery quadrupeds had ruptured and fell apart in a pile of their own steaming organs, and now all that lay in Tassadar's path were the zerg defensive structures, the sunken colonies. The reavers and colossi made short work of those as well. Beyond that were only the fevered hive defenders and the sickening, pulsating structures of the zerg.

They had cleared away much of a square to make room for the throbbing structural organisms, and the buildings that had not been knocked over and shoved aside were covered in membranous material. Tassadar burned it all without hesitation, defenders, membranes, structures all.

From there, it was a simple matter of calling down a probe and setting up a handful of pylons and photon cannons on what little ground was not covered in creep. Tassadar established a perimeter as best he could at every ruined street corner, deploying the colossi in as even a measure as he could manage. Once he had a measure of security, he began reacting to the cries for help, sending out parties of warriors to dig his allies out of the various quagmires they had fallen into.

Slowly they began trickling in. The batarians were the first to arrive, having sent a smaller and more mobile force. They nodded to the protoss as they passed, their gleaming black armor covered in the viscous blood of their slain foes. Many were carrying wounded brothers between them, and their first action upon arrival was to administer medical attention.

Several turians arrived next. They had brought overwhelming numbers and many were left outside the protective circle of photon cannons and colossi, but their morale appeared relatively high. They elected to bolster the current defenses with their own makeshift emplacements, and before long their guns were scanning the streets behind impressive impromptu fortifications.

The first asari and terrans arrived together, having apparently linked up somewhere to the northeast. From the red coloration of the terran's armor, Tassadar appraised them as Dominion, belonging to the widely hated Arcturus Mengsk. To his dismay, he did not see Raynor or Kerrigan among them. When he felt out with his mind, it was to find them still a half mile away, bogged down by countless smaller zerg organisms.

One of the terran's mind-bogglingly enormous and loud tanks drove up alongside Tassadar, treads coming to a halt before him. A hatch opened from the top, and Tassadar felt out for the person's mind inside only to find it partially blocked.

"You protoss didn't do too badly," said General Edmund Duke as his shining head emerged. He wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead. "Hadn't had this many targets to shoot at since puttin' down that little rebellion back on Jopar II. Mar Sara was pretty bad too, I guess. How many more aliens we waitin' on? Where're the Umojans? Still draggin' their fat white asses to the rally point?"

"Bogged down and were reporting a need for tank support," said Tassadar, even though this had been quite a while earlier. "We are still waiting on at least one more turian division and a few more asari companies. Once we are ready to move, I will call down Praetor Fenix and his troops, and the push will begin."

"Tank support, eh?" Duke rubbed his large chin. "Figures the damned Umojans wouldn't bring enough armor, too busy writin' damn poetry about sunshine and daisies. Alright, I'll take care of it."

To Tassadar's surprise and slight esteem, the normally irascible and unreasonable Duke lived up to his side of the bargain, venturing forth with a small line of siege tanks supported by a few dragoons and Jiris fighting vehicles. Volunteering batarian SIU troops and Dominion marines alike sat complacently to either side of the siege tank's hull, their legs swinging idly over the murder machine they had hitched a ride on.

"This is General Victus," said Victus again, his voice ringing clear through those on the command channel and the mind of Tassadar. "Good news and bad news. The zerg are moving towards your location all over the planet – which means we're free to hit other locations outside the funnel. Asari Fourth and Sixth fleets will be leading rescue efforts on areas less heavily hit and assaulting secondary and tertiary hive clusters while backed by the few salarians we brought. That's the good news. Bad news is, you've got about an hour and a half before the zerg start moving towards you in such numbers that it will no longer be safe even with orbital support. You need to get out of there!"

"I read you, birdie," replied Duke loudly from wherever he was fighting from. "Tassadar, boy, I know you can hear me. Once I dig these idiots out, I suggest we start making some damn tracks. We get any further intel on that stretch of wasteland?"

Nodding, Tassadar contacted Artanis to find out.

"What have our scouts located, Executor?" asked Tassadar. "The Khundelar has established the foothold. We are almost ready."

"Many scouts were lost," said Artanis, obviously strained. Tassadar had heard of no tragedy striking the protoss fleet, but the pressure still had to be enormous. "The path is covered in both sunken and spore colonies. Close range air support is impossible, and you will experience frequent delays making the push. It is also crawling with zerg, as I am sure you are unsurprised to learn. The first Cerebrate is about ten miles out – the second is much closer to the Overmind."

"They will all have to be destroyed," replied Tassadar before directing a message to Victus. "Can you provide orbital support? The way ahead is crawling with infestation."

"We can help clear the way, but firing directly in your path is inadvisable; you're going to have a hard enough time making that distance already," said Victus. "You won't have to worry as much about getting flanked. As for the Cerebrates, they've been intercepting our shots with clusters of zerg and don't look apt to run out soon. I'm sorry, I did my best."

"I never doubted it," said Tassadar as he heard the distant booms of siege tanks. _They'll be back soon. _"I will alert Fenix. We will be moving shortly."

Fenix had apparently been listening in, for he materialized alongside Tassadar shortly afterward, his incandescent form solidifying to his old friend's left.

"It is good to have a planet beneath my feet again!" proclaimed Fenix, looking gleefully at the gathered forces around him. "And it is good to be surrounded by the likes such as this! Although… I see the asari are here."

"This is their homeworld, Praetor," said Tassadar, still feeling a twinge of amusement at Fenix's anxiety. "Do the rest of our forces stand ready?"

"They wait with great anticipation, Tassadar!" said Fenix, his enthusiasm not at all extinguished, despite the starkness of their surroundings. "With the two of us leading them, they wonder quite rightly if there is a force in this galaxy – nay, this universe – that can even waylay us."

"The zerg have adapted further," said Tassadar, feeling the presence of Kerrigan shifting closer. _Duke picked them up. A few more acts like this and I may even owe him gratitude. _"I would not underestimate them. They are taking this time to rally as well. How fare our Nerazim?"

"Here already," chuckled Zeratul from behind Tassadar. _I still have much to learn._ When he turned to face the Prelate, it was to find him standing alone. "The others scatter amongst the rank and file, all the better to make it harder for the zerg. Kythos and Selak send their greetings." The Prelate stood taller than usual, and had even armored himself with pieces of zerg they had acquired from Char. His eyes glowed from underneath his hydralisk helm.

"We only have six Nerazim," complained Fenix. "Look at them – frail and barely possessing shields and armor-"

"Seven Nerazim, Praetor," said Zeratul, his flicking to Tassadar and his new warp blade. "Wielding the Khala alongside one of our blades, Tassadar. I am… heartened, to see it."

"If Tassadar is among your number now, then we are fine," said Fenix, all doubt vanishing in an instant. _Oh, Fenix. You are the only Templar I can imagine who would take such news without being at least slightly perturbed._ "I will call down my forces and begin the march, Tassadar. I will leave you with the command of the High Templar while I rally the war machines and foot troops. Khassar de templari!"

Fenix marched off, barking orders through the Khala. The Umojan line had starting trailing in; their white armor, even grimy as it was, still stood out amongst the dull colors of an infested Thessia. Among their number were a small number of terrans clad in freshly-painted blue, and Tassadar's mind met briefly with the ghost among them.

_They're fine. They will be fine._ Kerrigan's mind retracted. She was worried about Raynor, whose leg was still not fully healed. _I am sure he is not alone in being wounded among these soldiers – yet the fight must continue._ Tassadar's people were again forming ranks, this time leaving gaps for Fenix's reinforcements. As new protoss warriors appeared within the square, Tassadar looked upon them and realized that the bulk of the people he had taken with him from Chau Sara now stood on this planet with him. _If we fail… no. We cannot fail._

Tassadar spread his mind to the people around him, feeling for their emotions, their hopes, their fears.

"Day and a half long forced march… probably longer when the zerg hit us. We got enough food and stimulants?" The turians were concerned only with logistics and victory. Survival seemed too good to be true. Tassadar felt a pang of regret at how the protoss had first met their people. _Perhaps I missed something. Am I really that certain they fired first?_

"Look at all of 'em, staring at Thessia like it's the end of the world. They haven't seen anything yet." The batarians were more relaxed, as the Hegemony had only sent their best to the surface. Most of them were quite ready to leave.

The asari were consumed either by grief or thoughts of vengeance, and the terrans (as always) were such a baffling mishmash of differing emotions between the lot of them that Tassadar was becoming increasingly uncertain that their various nations were even comprised of the same species. _A strange people. It is time to move._

Tassadar took his place among the head of the High Templar. Their numbers were comparatively small to the rest of the force, but there was not a protoss among them that would deny where the true power of the force lay. _Here. Where the zerg form unmovable walls, we will rip them aside with the force of a hundred hurricanes._

Fenix's forces moved from the square, abandoning the pylons and fortifications. Tassadar followed close behind, traveling close to the war machines that Fenix commanded. With many a groan and whispered complaint, the other races fell in as well, their many boots thudding in a complete absence of unison behind them.

The first hour was quiet, though Tassadar sensed great movement all around them. Victus's ragged fleet was the only disturbance – twice they reported a sudden surge of overlords to their location, and made haste to intercept. The distant booms and flash of orange among the swiftly falling darkness drew many remarks from the troops as they trudged through the wastes, though Tassadar offered nothing more than momentary attention. _Until the Overmind is dead, their numbers are limitless, and their will is unbreakable._

A mile went by. Then another. Periodically, Tassadar heard fragments of some kind of battle hymn or marching song from the turians, and felt a swell of spirits at some of the verses. When he scanned their minds, it was to find it had something to do with "the First Regiment" and some ancient stand. _If it keeps their spirits up, good. The noise is irrelevant – the zerg know we are here._

Tassadar did not see when they hit the first sunken colonies. He was only alerted by their presence when the colossi and reavers stopped suddenly to open fire. Distant shrieks and impacts filled the night's air, and Tassadar waited until the noise died away and then continued the advance, his High Templar floating quietly behind him. A short minute later, they found themselves treading on zerg creep once more.

_So it begins._

They had four miles of zerg territory to push through, a Cerebrate waiting at the end. Killing it would weaken the Overmind and hopefully give them some time unmolested by the zerg. The turians in the back had quieted. The ground began to bubble and shake.

"THRESHER MAW!" The name was unfamiliar, but the creature really needed no introduction. A great slavering mouth emerged from the creep behind Tassadar with an ungodly scream, scattering the troops unlucky enough to be under it. Tassadar sensed movement from all sides and knew that the real difficulty had begun. _Time to fight our way to that Cerebrate._

The Thresher Maw was pelted on all sides by projectiles – dragoons, countless terran and turian guns, reavers – but it barely seemed to notice. With a heave, its gullet sprayed caustic liquid around it, showering those closest with hissing chemicals. The screams were followed by a horrid smell, and the infested Maw retreated as quickly as it had arrived. Tassadar bellowed for his Templar to keep advancing, for they had little time to chase such a burrowing creature… and the bulk of the Swarm was upon them.

From the trees covered in cancerous growths, from behind the hills, from the skies, the zerg came. A great choking orange cloud emerged in Tassadar's line, but he knew where the enemy lay. Psi storms went up, and the protoss found themselves surrounded by energy, an eye in the middle of a raging storm. Spines rained from above, and a High Templar collapsed before vanishing, his suit sensing fatal injuries. The storms ebbed, and Tassadar slid his warp blade free and charged.

Sweeping orange beams crossed Tassadar's path but did not scathe him. Alongside his brothers, he met the zerg full force, his vibrant green blade neatly cutting a zergling in half. Spines enhanced by biotic energy punched through his shield, and one round sheared into his shoulder, prompting the suit to administer antitoxins. Tassadar grunted and lifted a palm, halting the next volley of spines in midair before sending them back in a spray. Pain pulsed through his body, but he could not slow.

The many zerglings were now supported by vicious, fanged bipeds – infested vorcha. The vorcha varied in size but not in temperament – they feared not the Templar, and their claws were only as fearsome as their hate filled red eyes. Tassadar rushed for a zealot who had been surrounded by the creatures, but they pulled him under as soon as the shields had dropped, ignoring their own freshly severed limbs.

The protoss advance had halted, and now the other races were catching up. The staccato of gunshots and harsh shouting was now very close by, and Tassadar had to fight to prevent himself being affected by the raw _fear_ the other soldiers were producing.

"PUSH FORWARD!" screamed Fenix, the Khala thick with his bloodlust. Tassadar grunted and aimed himself towards the now advancing colossi. His blade cut low, high, across, each zerg soon little more than a blurry memory. One foot moved forward, then another. They were cutting themselves free, though now the turians and batarians had caught up with them. _I was hoping we could buy them more time free from the attrition of the push. _

The next half-hour went through in a daze, and Tassadar had to fight from losing himself to the wrath pulsing through the Khala. To do so was to both lose control of the warp blade and weaken his nearest brothers – his severed psi appendage, even clamped as it was, still bled power. _Keep myself at a distance._

The ultralisks set on the protoss first. Their thick armor deterred the worst of the colossi's blasts, and the reaver's scarabs barely slowed them. They came down on the line, roaring, their carapaces alive with the weapon's fire they were attracting. One among the ultralisks caught Tassadar's attention in particular.

Glowing a vibrant blue and half again as large as the others, this ultralisk bore upon the lines in a kind of frenzy Tassadar had never seen before. It brought its bulk to bear directly against the colossi, and the zealots rushed to block it. With a scream, its form shimmered and it tossed its head and sudden force erupted amongst the foot troops, knocking them to either side. It collided with a colossi full force, toppling it effortlessly before stamping hard on its "head." The machine fell still.

"Take it down!" Tassadar did not know who was shouting through the Khala, but he was already there, almost at the foot of the towering creature. Another green blade could be seen in the commotion, and Tassadar also caught a glimpse of a towering warrior. _Fenix._

This time there was no war cry. Tassadar dodged neatly to the side as scythe whipped through the air, dizzyingly fast. The ultralisk followed up with more whirling blades, and Tassadar found himself in the distressing position of being a mere distraction while his other warriors went to work on the creature. Psi blades were turned aside by a mix of barriers and carapace. Colossi beams failed. Only the dancing warp blade, barely visible past the ultralisk's shifting blades, seemed to have any effect. A quick cut to the back leg from the Dark Templar made the creature kneel momentarily, bringing its head to Tassadar's level.

Leaping, he swept the blade down, cutting across its face. Smoking pieces of zerg fell away from the creature, but did not seem to slow it. Tassadar drove the blade under its spiked chin, but was promptly shaken away and knocked to the ground. When he looked up, it was to find Fenix had leapt atop the creature and positioned himself on its neck.

His psi blades alight, Fenix tethered his body to the creature with his psionics, letting him stand as the creature rose. His eyes alive with rage, he punched each blade through the back of the creature's enormous head, once, two, three times, his form locked in place by telekinesis. The behemoth tried to shake him off, but Fenix simply drove his blades again and again into where Tassadar hoped its brain was present.

The ultralisk buckled and, with a final yell, lay still alongside too many fallen protoss war machines. Fenix only had time to spare Tassadar a nod before plunging into the fray once again. Tassadar followed wearily, wondering which Dark Templar had helped him bring down the creature.

Darkness had fully fallen, and Tassadar was left wondering how the other races were faring with their lesser vision. Psi blades and flames flickered together in the smothering darkness, and Tassadar could no longer tell what kind of zerg he was fighting against any longer. His endless exhaustion was only tempered by the occasional flash of pride as he witnessed his allies displaying their valor: a batarian ripping a zergling free from a pinned turian before smashing it with some glowing gauntlet, defiant turian chants echoing across the hills and jungle as another unit volunteered to hold some almost lost flank, terran firebats holding off the zerg pushes against the asari commandos, who lifted the smaller zerg into the air and let their allies cook them. What had been a lengthy train of infantry and armor had mushroomed into a roiling crowd of desperate interspecies camaraderie. Where the zerg broke through, the siege tanks and colossi restored order. Where the zerg applied light pressure, the turians and terrans dug in their heels and repelled the assault with force. All the while, the protoss and batarians continued to lead the push, still undeterred.

"You're a mile and a half out," said Victus, sounding out of breath. "You'll see the first Cerebrate soon. The fleets are still holding, but the Psi Disruptor seems to be losing effectiveness. Another few hours, and you'll likely start having to contend with zerg air support. Give them hell!"

Tassadar, ignoring the countless aches and pains that wracked his wounded self, redoubled his efforts. More orange clouds appeared out of nowhere, blinding those reliant on targeting systems. Enormous shapes moved into the foul fog, one of them all too familiar.

_Another one?_ Tassadar recognized the shape of the creature, and then his eyes locked with it through the fog. _No. The same!_

It glowed blue and knocked a reaver aside without ever touching it – its real goal was the Templar who had helped slay it once before already.

Tassadar reached into the Void and let raw entropy coat his weapon. _You will not rise again!_ He dived between the creature's legs, shields collapsing as a kaiser blade grazed his back, and drove his blade into the ultralisk's underside, running underneath the creature with his weapon buried in its belly.

Tassadar left a yawning, charred wound behind him as he exited the underside, and he heard the ultralisk stagger. Satisfaction warmed his body, and he watched the creature's guts pile up underneath it. Unfortunately, the creature seemed to realize its impending death and took the time to charge off in another direction and out of sight – liquid and putrid smelling organs pouring from it all the way. _It has only borrowed time. I hope the others can kill it quickly. _Tassadar had other responsibilities.

The creep grew ever thicker here, and the first of the major zerg structures had made their appearance. Though they had lost numerous war machines, the structures still burned quickly, their blood sizzling as they were exposed to the might of the protoss. In the distance, Tassadar could see a yawning pit. _There it is._

Now, for the first time, the allied forces were forced to contend with zerg fliers. This close to the Cerebrate, it was all too apparent the Psi Disruptor was having no effect. Above the pit, countless winged organisms shrieked and spat as they filled the night air with their wingbeats. As one, they descended.

Terran Goliaths and turian Jiris Fighting Vehicles met the creature's head on with a withering number of rockets. Explosive and zerg met together in the air with a harsh thunder while Tassadar provided the crackling lightning, ripping the air asunder with another psi storm. On the ground, meanwhile, the terrans were shelling everything in sight while the turians dug in on the edges, trying their best to fortify their position on the Creep.

Overlords swarmed in from all directions, their insides teeming with vile life. One in particular caught Tassadar's interest, as it seemed positively gorged. When it dispensed its payload, it was not by disgorging it from its tendrils, but rather by landing and then splitting open in a shower of blood. The undying ultralisk shook itself free with a bellow and joined the assault, charging away from Tassadar and towards the terran's siege line.

This time the zerg did not give ground. Despite being faced with the might of the galaxy, despite being subjected to continual bombardment by the distant Victus, despite dying by the hundreds and then the thousands, the zerg refused to let the protoss any closer. Tassadar, bleeding from a dozen wounds, shields collapsed, staggered and was caught by a firm hand.

"Almost there, Templar," muttered Zeratul, pushing him back upright. "The end is in sight. Even the zerg cannot hold forever. Not in the face of such sacrifice." Zeratul pointed a thick finger some ways to their right. What Tassadar witnessed made his heart first swell and then falter.

Aurilar and Kedraxis, twins born four centuries ago, had locked arms and eyes. They, too, bled from many wounds, and Tassadar could sense their exhaustion… and desperation.

"Two more for the Archives," said Tassadar, crossing each of his hearts with a tentative finger. "Aurilar and Kedraxis, the only twins in living protoss memory. We may never see their like again."

With a muffled gasp, a rift opened between the two of them where their arms had locked and promptly sucked them in. The air crackled with static, and their energies coalesced as one, taking the shape of a shifting cloud of gas. Reinvigorated, Tassadar strode to their position, reaching it just in time.

"**The merging… is… complete!"**

An enormous armored figure emerged from the cloud, twenty feet tall. Hands rippling with raw psionic energy, Aurilar-Kedraxis turned their attention to the pit containing the Cerebrate many hundreds of feet away.

"**Power… overwhelming!"** The heavens shook at this proclamation, and the Archon lifted a heavy hand, sending a boiling shockwave before them, searing the zerg and knocking them aside. They surged forward, Tassadar barely keeping apace.

"All for the empire!" screamed Fenix, barely audible through the Khala's roar. "Witness the Archon! We are eternal! Not a zerg shall stand!"

Mutalisks dived upon Aurilar-Kedraxis and died. Zerglings burned at their mere passing. Only the hydralisks and infested elcor, keeping their distance, were able to strike the Archon's shields with impunity, though Aurilar-Kedraxis barely noticed. They and Tassadar reached the slope together.

Down below, a ring of hunter killers and ultralisks awaited them, surrounding a great, steaming mass of brain tissue. Many of them glowed blue with the hellish energy Thessia had bought them. Their glowing eyes were devoid of fear.

Tassadar looked to his left and found Fenix, wounded but still upright. To his right stood Zeratul, warp blade alight. They spoke not a word. The Archon, shining in their righteous light, charged first. The others followed.

Tassadar tried to recall the last time he had felt the sheer exhilaration of charging a foe down a slope, letting simple gravity propel him to new speeds. Spines pinged off his shields, opening him up to further injury, but he was simply laughing at the sensation of moving so fast. Another shockwave opened up the ring of zerg and Tassadar was upon them.

A hunter killer, head bowed, was firing biotic-infused spines into Tassadar's brothers. With two sure strokes, it fell into two, no longer glowing pieces. An ultralisk wrestled with Aurilar-Kedraxis, arms locked with kaiser blades as the Archon's shields began to falter. Tassadar leapt atop it and drove a searing blade into its back, driving the beast to the ground and leaving Aurilar-Kedraxis to finish it. Fenix wrestled with two hunter killers at once, grunting as he slammed their heads together. Tassadar shouted encouragement as he sought to duplicate the feat. He became vaguely aware of movement at the lip of their little crater.

"Alright boys and girls, aliens and gentlemen, ya'll tired of zerg yet? I know I am. See that big ass brain?" It was Raynor, who had apparently fought his way through with a small group of various marines. "Wax it!"

Impacts from both polonium infused rounds and simple Impaler slugs pounded the earth all around them, although the targeting systems prevented the worst of the friendly fire. Ultralisks roared before weakening from sickness. Hunter killers had fresh wounds opened all over their bodies. They had the opening they needed.

It was a simple thing to witness. Time slowed, and Tassadar wheeled to face the faint form of Zeratul, warp blade raised high over his head. He was standing atop the Cerebrate, feet steady among the shifting tissue. His eyes locked with Tassadar's.

_For Aiur._

The blade fell and rose. The zerg screamed in pain around them, thrashing in panic and agony. The hooting of terrans, turians, and batarians alike bounced off the walls of the Cerebrate's nest. Zeratul did not slow. With a final scream, the Cerebrate fell still, and Zeratul clutched his head in both hands. Remembering the last time, Tassadar sprinted for his friend, catching him as he fell.

"Zeratul!" Tassadar tried to help him stand, only to be surprised as his friend grabbed at his face and brought it close. Eyes now shining an unnatural orange, Zeratul clutched Tassadar with a fearsome strength.

"**Befoulers… of eternity!" **snarled that which was not Zeratul. **"Not one more son shall fall to your vile practices. Die, having never known the Swarm's glory!" **

A shadow fell over Tassadar. Wrenching himself free from his now comatose mentor, Tassadar looked up, only to be showered in zerg gore. A boom announced the arrival of the undying ultralisk, who uncurled before the sodden Tassadar.

Warp blade lit, Tassadar grunted and charged forward, diving once more for between the beast's legs… only to feel a force holding him in place. Tassadar struggled as he was lifted slowly before the ultralisk's face, held in place by infernal zerg biotics.

Ignoring the shouts and fire from countless enemies, the ultralisk brought Tassadar level with its eyes. With a soft snarl, it tossed its head, and everything blurred. Tassadar slammed into the ground with bone crunching force, his vision going red. When he was lifted again, he was barely aware of it.

Glowing eyes linked with his. Tassadar felt as if he were staring into the Overmind Itself, that the distant yet omnipresent creature was watching him die with glee. The ultralisk glowed blue once more, but whatever followed was lost to Tassadar, who finally gave in to blessed unconsciousness.


	38. End of Days

**James**

The HEV rifle was the biggest ass gun Jim had ever handled, and right now he had never been more thankful for that.

"Shot is warped!" barked Saren, and Jim found that his stomach still lurched slightly every time his former friend spoke. _Still, glad for the assist._ Jim laid the reticule square against where he hoped the big bastard zerg's brain was and squeezed the trigger.

The gun's discharge was a bright violet, a product of the weird biotic manipulation the galaxy had suddenly become much fonder of. Jim's scope shuddered and the giant zerg (as well as the dangling Tassadar) left his sights momentarily. He readjusted as quickly as he was able and found that Tassadar had been dropped; the zerg had been staggered by the force of the shot and now its thick skull was gushing crimson. _Eat shit._ Jim yanked the bolt back and then pushed it in, waiting for Saren.

"Shot is warped!" The zerg had redirected its attention to the distant snipers, even as the other zerg around it went crazy from the loss of the brain and numerous protoss began swarming its legs. _Too bad, big guy._ Jim squeezed the trigger again and the gun slammed back against his shoulder. This time, when he re-sighted, it was to find the creature having fallen still, its carcass swarming with angry protoss warriors. Jim grunted and lowered the rifle.

"Thanks, man," he said, not looking at Saren. _He helped me save a protoss. It's a start._ He didn't know exactly when he and Saren had ended up fighting alongside each other (it had been a long ten miles) but he suspected it was not an accident on the turian's part. Since Sarah had long since abandoned the Ranger's main force to work with the asari commandos (who were more up her alley) he had actually been pretty reassured to have such a soldier at his back. _So long as we don't hand him a psi emitter and send him near the protoss, we should be okay._ Jim began to descend the slope, knees twinging as he fought to maintain his balance.

The zerg that had previously been all around them were now fleeing in every available direction. The shrieks, spits, and growls that had characterized all too many of the last few hours of Jim's life were now fading away. _Killing that Cere-thingy did some good, then._ He started feeling nervous, however, as he noted the gathering of protoss close by the carcass. _Aw hell. Tell me he ain't dead._

"I shoot it in time?" Jim asked, gently trying to push his way through the crowd of ten foot tall, blood encrusted aliens while ignoring the nearby titanic ball of energy. "Is he alright?"

"Friend Raynor," said the tallest protoss, rising from the prone form of Tassadar. _Fenix. I remember Fenix. It's good that he's still alive. _"We thank you for your intervention. Were Tassadar's life in danger of fully ebbing away, his suit would have sent him to one of our ships. Still… he is grievously wounded." _I've heard Fenix talk before. Hell, I've spent the last few hours occasionally hearing him screaming. Now he sounds somber. That's not good._

Jim took a good look at the body before him. The golden armor, previously resplendent, was now coated in blood and dirt. Much of the outer armor had crumpled, and exposed wiring was visible through some of the outer layer of filth. _Don't know much about protoss power armor… but that don't look good._ Tassadar's arms were bent at odd angles, and blood was clearly running down his face. _God bless the HEV rifle. He couldn't have taken much more._

"We still have thirty-three miles ahead of us," said Saren, having followed Jim down into the pit. Jim rounded on him, wondering if the protoss could sense the kind of hatred the turian had for the lot of them. _Does he have a hard time walking among them, I wonder?_ "I am no expert on protoss medicine, but it is clear that he is in no shape to press onward. The zerg have dispersed; we should get what wounded we can to safety before moving on."

_Can't say I'm not in favor of that._ Jim looked up at the lightening sky. The night was over. _Great. Now the zerg can see us better._ There wasn't even really that much light streaming in; the clouds overhead were dark and overcast, while ash still rained from the sky in unkindly copious amounts. _Still… no zerg to be seen anymore._

"There is nowhere to take him," said Fenix, now sounding worried. "Our own fleet is still embroiled in bitter battle against the zerg-"

"Third Fleet is overhead," said Saren shortly. "If their ships become unsafe, it is because the line failed elsewhere. It is the logical place to take the wounded. Accept it and get a move on – you're not the only ones to have suffered losses."

_Is it just me, or did the air just chill a little bit? _The protoss glowered at the defiant turian, only averting their gaze as the previously hidden form of Zeratul shakily rose to his feet.

"Saren… speaks with some wisdom…" grunted Zeratul, holding his arms out to steady himself. "Take advantage of the lull, but do it quickly. I saw the Overmind firsthand, once more. Its rage… is beyond my feeble capabilities to describe. The pace must quicken."

"Victus!" yelled Jim into the command channel. "We're doin' a round of casevac, get some shuttles down here. Fast, man, we don't got much time before the zerg start getting' rowdy again."

"Affirmative!" said Victus in reply, the strain all too evident. _Shit, guess the boys up high aren't gettin' any sleep neither._ Nodding to Fenix and Zeratul, he exited the pit in search of his Rangers, trailed by a silent Saren.

"How we doin' boys and girls?" asked Jim as he sauntered to his ash and blood-soaked compatriots, the fresh blue paint of their armor already turned dull and gray.

"Peachy," muttered Jenny before spitting a large wad of tobacco on the ground. She eyed Saren with some ire but said nothing. The others, such as they were, only mumbled under their breaths.

"Anyone seen Sarah?" Jim asked cheerfully. A firebat with several holes punched in his front pointed a shaky finger towards the black-clad asari commandos. _Still? Alright._ He offered his thanks and moved, Saren still following.

He found Sarah in a conversation with one of the only asari present who did not wear a commando uniform. Standing taller than many of the others around her, this soldier bore crimson red armor, and her pale blue eyes were undimmed by shock.

"He's the one," said Sarah to this new asari as Jim approached. "Justicar material. He's got that same inflexibility."

"Excuse me, darlin'?" said Jim. "I'm plenty flexible, trust me."

"You are among those who brought the protoss to the aid of the Council," said the asari in a cool, flat voice that made Jim cease his approach. "You are to be commended. Whatever their crimes elsewhere, the protoss have committed none in asari space. Their wrath is to be lauded, as is your dedication to justice. I am Samara."

"If I'm so just, how come Saren ain't walkin' around with a hole in his head?" asked Jim loudly. There was a twinge of regret as the turian stiffened before storming off, but it was eclipsed by a sense of satisfaction. Sarah shook her head, her ponytail whipping back and forth.

"Not going to help, Jim," said Sarah, raising her voice as the turian shuttles began to descend. Muffled shouts echoed through the burnt out remains of the hive cluster – troops carrying their wounded comrades to safety. "One down, right?"

"Next one's about thirty miles away," said Jim, "but yeah. We got the first bastard… and a pleasure to meet you, ma'am." He shook hands with the justicar, who only hesitated momentarily before realizing what he had tried to do.

"We will be moving out shortly," Samara said, her cool voice reflecting no fear. _She's just statin' facts._ "Sarah requested I stay with your Rangers, to help deflect the worst of the zerg biotics."

"Can't you handle that, darlin'?" Jim asked. Kerrigan shook her head.

"I'm needed everywhere, Jim. I've been running up and down with the commandos, trying to keep our flanks steady when the zerglings come rushing down. Samara volunteered her aid."

"Sarah gave me compelling reasons," said Samara, causing Jim to flush as she glanced at him. _Uh… how old do these folks get again? They can't read minds, right?_ "Justicars also tend to make commandos nervous. I shall gladly endeavor to keep you and yours safe."

"You're good with biotics, then?" asked Jim. The flush turned to a chill as he suddenly noticed the weight behind Samara's eyes.

"I have over seven hundred years of experience with them," she said lightly. "I hope that will be satisfactory."

The shuttles were taking off. Jim hoped Tassadar was aboard one of them, if not conscious then at least safe. Shouts filled the hive cluster, and the protoss were beckoning the other forces onward. The turians had begun their damnable singing again, and the siege tank line was surging to life, flanked by Goliaths.

"Keep safe, Sarah, alright?" said Jim, looking into her green eyes. "I'll try to do the same."

With a smirk, she blew him a kiss and began helping commandos to their feet. _Long night. Now it's gonna be a long day._ Jim returned to his Rangers to notify them that the break was over.

"Rangers roll!" bellowed Jim, actually drawing a few cheers. They fell in line with the Umojans and some of the lagging turians, with Samara standing amidst the Rangers almost serenely. Rays of sunlight began to shine through the dark clouds, and Jim was almost able to ignore the burning sensation in his heels for a moment. _Thirty-three more fucking miles._ It was all he could do to keep the HEV rifle from dragging on the ground as he walked. _Sarah says it'll keep me out of trouble, but nothin' says trouble like my arms fallin' off._ Still, at least he could keep away from the zerg and still do plenty of damage to the bigger targets.

It was one of the few occasions in Jim's life where he was surrounded by the sounds of soldiers and vehicles built for war and felt quite reassured by it. _Zerg screamin' all around you can get quite wearing._ He almost felt the urge to whistle, but looking around and seeing the obvious gaps in the lines of infantry, as well as the shells of once beautiful asari buildings quite killed the moment. _Can't relish the quiet too much._

"This area was once among the most peaceful that could be found on Thessia," said Samara, walking alongside Jim. Despite towering above her in his suit, Jim still felt like a child before the asari. _Eight hundred years..._ "To see it ravaged by the zerg firsthand-"

"Wait – did we pick you up after coming down here?" Jim shuddered when Samara nodded. "Damn. Well, maybe we can get it back to the way it was." _Shouldn't lie. I've seen Mar Sara and Tarsonis. Once the zerg land, there's no goin' back._ Samara just gave him a sad smile.

"We've received the shuttles," said Victus tersely through the comms, causing Jim to shift his concentration back to the matter at hand. "Tassadar is aboard _Momentum. _He's still unconscious, however. The zerg are regrouping, though it seems the death of the Cerebrate sparked some infighting. You should still have a little more time – make the most of it."

"Keep beating feet," moaned a marine from behind Jim. "Fuck, can't the protoss carry us?"

"Stim up and shut up," snapped Jenny. "This is the easy bit."

Jim marched on in silence, looking at the closest Goliath and wishing fervently that he were piloting it. _Not that I know how, but still…_

"The grand old duke of York," muttered Jim to himself as his feet burned. "He had ten thousand men..." He grunted the rest to himself as his part of the column reached the hill. Soon after that, he felt the familiar crunch of creep underneath his boots. _Wild country, again._ Ahead, the sound of the protoss colossi liquefying distant zerg structures carried clearly through the thick morning air.

There was no great alarm this time when the zerg began their approach. Jim heard Adrien say something and it was followed by the distant booms of orbital bombardment. The wind carried with it the scent of burned flesh and the hissing of millions of infuriated bugs. _I have a feeling this time, they won't stop until one side is dead._ The column had gone fully quiet. _Stay safe, Sarah. Here we go._

"Here they come!" Jim didn't know who had shouted it, but the horizon was alive with motion. Sliding his visor down and surrendering himself to the sweat of the interior, Jim watched his motion sensors light up and begin outlining targets.

The Council forces were already firing into the horde while the siege tanks extended their pontoons. The Rangers had formed a battle line before the oncoming tide of zerg, headed by a softly glowing Samara while Jim stood in the back with his rifle. _Find a big one._ He sighted a snakemantis and squeezed the trigger. When he re-sighted, it had been buried under the horde of its fellows. _Good enough._

The staccato of Impaler slugs drowned out the noise of the zerg. Samara had produced some kind of shimmering barrier and was swatting incoming projectiles out of the air with enviable ease. Jim found one of the psychotic elephant types and aimed as best as he could for its head. By the time he had yanked the bolt back and chambered another round, it too had fallen before the onslaught.

Runners were making the rounds, handing out ammo to the marines as they passed by, much to the obvious befuddlement of nearby turian and asari forces. Jim hoisted another belt of HEV ammo over his shoulder with a grunt, not sure whether to thank or curse the man responsible for the resupply. The zerg began to thin out, and the order was given to move forward again. Jim felt nothing but exhaustion as he changed the mag and began to shamble in the general direction everyone else was heading. To his complete lack of surprise, thunder had begun to peal overhead. It was shortly followed by the soft _plink plink plink_ of rain hitting the helmets of countless tired soldiers.

They got about two miles before the protoss sent up a great cry. Victus yelled something that Jim could no longer recognize beyond the dull throb of his pulse, and his heart barely fluttered as his motion sensors went crazy again.

"We need to keep moving!" a nearby turian was shouting frantically, and Jim believed him. His senses slowly deadening, he advanced, scanning to either side of him as he went.

Atop a nearby hill, a silhouette caught his attention, mostly because he thought at first that it was Samara. Standing tall with the profile of an asari, it watched the procession of soldiers with the kind of keen interest a hawk might show a furtive lizard. Then it was gone.

"They're running alongside us," a batarian was saying loudly to himself as Jim passed. "They're not charging. What are they waiting for?"

Light flashed across the sky, followed by a _boom_ that almost shook Jim out of his exhausted stupor. The zerg still did not charge. _It's enough to make a man anxious._

A yell went up ahead, and Jim saw a figure go flying. Almost too fast to see, a blue line crossed his vision, and where the line ended there was a sudden impact. A Goliath was tipped over by the force, and an inhuman, berserk shrieking went up where it had stood.

The darkness was lit up by gunshots and the soft blue of biotics. The zerg were no longer running perpendicular to their forces – and the skies had filled up with their command bugs, the overlords.

One of the blue lines burst next to Jim nearby, showering him with dust and water. The creature met his eyes and _screamed_, its face alive with biotic energy. _So that's what the zerg do to asari._ Jim lifted his rifle, but a firebat reached the infested asari before he did. Its barriers flaring, the creature reared and screamed as it burned, and Jim could not help but feel sympathy for what the creature had once been, if nothing else. He brought the rifle scope to his visor and looked to see what kind of damage control he could conduct.

One of the big worm creatures had emerged amidst the siege tank line and was causing some consternation amongst those nearby. Jim shot the creature in what he hoped was its head, and it retreated back underground, later emerging close to the protoss. _Your funeral._ That great ball of gas, the Archon, did not take kindly to its presence. Jim walked toward it like it was the light of God, stopping periodically to find big zerg and put them down before they became a problem.

The overlords had made it overhead at this point, although the turians were doing their damndest to shoot the things down with their little hover tanks. Strange, round creatures were being dropped from their tendrils among the infantry lines, and judging from the violent explosions that followed, Jim guessed the zerg had taken up suicide bombing. _Guess I gotta shoot those down, too._

He had outpaced the rest of his Rangers and was drawing ever closer to the protoss line. He heard a familiar voice bellowing from an overturned siege tank, recognized it as Duke. At the man's furious request, he helped a trio of Dominion marines bring it back right ways up. The general was swift in emerging from the hatch afterwards.

"Who I gotta thank- oh. It's the Hick." Duke spat, just adding to the wetness of their surroundings. "Figured that's why it took so long. You expectin' thanks?" Jim just moved on, deaf to Duke's continual gesticulations and insults. A roaring had filled his skull, drowning out all thought and most sensation. He just knew he had to _push._

The protoss were engaged in a frightening melee. Every time lightning flashed across the sky it was to reveal an image more violent than the last. The ball of gas was ploughing its way forward, a bright light shining in utter darkness. Jim wondered vaguely how the protoss had made the thing.

The bigger targets were the ones the protoss were having trouble with. Hardly any of their colossi walkers still stood, having been mostly toppled by the angry elephant bastards. Jim found their skulls and emptied Penetrator rounds into the thick carapace, wounding the strong ones and finishing the injured. The protoss shouted back thanks to their hidden savior, but Jim paid it little mind. Slowly, the line got moving again. A tall protoss held back and met Jim midway.

"James Raynor!" cried Fenix, covered in cuts and burns. His hand found a rest on Jim's shoulder. "Your thoughts…? Hold still!"

Jim shuddered as warmth flowed through his body, and the sense of disassociation ebbed away. Sadly, this meant that once the initial sensation had dimmed, he realized how cold and tired his body felt.

"These zerg leave wounds on more than just the body," said Fenix. "Stay near the front, your Rangers are welcome here, also. I would prefer to keep an eye on those we know will remain our allies when this is done."

"Thanks," said Jim, looking back and suddenly noticing the sheer number of _bodies_ behind him. _Shit. Maybe it would have been better if I were still some sniper zombie._ Too many of the stiff corpses were terran for his liking. _Not that the turian or batarian corpses make me feel good, or anything..._

Calling back for his Rangers, what was left of them joined him at the front.

"Still alive?" asked Jenny, softly punching his armored arm. "Don't wander off. It's a bad neighborhood."

"Thanks, mom," whispered Jim, though a smile tugged at his lips. _Gotta find sensation, somewhere. Something to cling to._

If there was one thing to be said for the fucking terrifying protoss gas ball, it was that it produced tremendous amounts of heat. It paved the way through the wreckage of the asari civilization with a kind of casual menace, pausing only to allow the protoss colossi to wreak havoc on some distant target. The fighting picked up, occasionally, and Jim lost himself to the reticule and rifle again, only to be brought back either by a friendly protoss or a stimpack. During one of the gaps, Jim found Zeratul walking alongside him.

"That thing," Jim said, pointing to the Archon, "Archon, I heard Fenix call it that. What is it?" _Aside from the only source of warmth in about a ten mile radius._

"A merging of the Khala, the protoss gestalt in its purest expression," said Zeratul. "Two High Templar merged to create the ultimate warrior – for a time. When the battle is done, they will fade like a dying star. They are Aurilar-Kedraxis."

This made Jim feel sad, even though he didn't fully understand it.

"You guys – Dark Templar – you're different though, right?" asked Jim. "You got your own "pure expression?""

Zeratul's visage, shining green in the light of his warp blade, noticeably darkened.

"Yes," he said carefully. "Though such things are best left… alone. The Dark Archon is the purest expression of entropy. Life dies in its wake. Where the Khalai record the names of sacrificed High Templar in their Archives, we forever strike away the names of those Nerazim who would merge. They would not want to be remembered."

"Protoss are weird," said Jim, prompting a bark of laughter from Zeratul, who melted back into the shadows shortly afterward.

The fights went on. Jim knew this. He could recall the faint glistening of blood amidst the Creep as lightning flashed overhead. His shoulder felt half-shattered from absorbing the rifle's recoil over and over again. He vaguely remembered witnessing a batarian tearing the head from the shoulders of a snakemantis struggling in an electrified net he had thrown over it. The turians had begun singing again at some point, though in truth it sounded more like some sort of avian death cry that layered over itself, over and over again, becoming a never ending shriek of defiance.

And amidst all this madness stood a little shivering band of Rangers, far from the Mar Sara they had long ago pledged to defend. Their gun barrels glowed brightly in the cold dark, their armor whirred and clunked as they pounded mile after mile of befouled soul, and their eyes deadened as the day threatened to become unending. The protoss had ceased their war cries, and only two colossi still remained. _This will soon be it. One way or another._

A patch of red had appeared on the horizon. Silhouettes of shattered buildings threatened to obscure it, but snatches of that threatening glow could still be seen as they marched ever onward. Jim knew what it was, and knew it meant they were almost there. _And it makes me feel somethin'. Not relief, though. Fear._

"We are almost upon the Cerebrate!" bellowed Fenix, somehow sounding hoarse through his psionics. "This has been a fight beyond imagining, and our strength threatens to ebb away. Yet look back and take heart that those the Conclave deemed our "lessers" still follow, while the Conclave is nowhere to be seen. We are close to the end, brothers."

"This is Third Fleet!" General Victus cut in with a burst of static. "You're close – you are very close – but we've got a problem. We've got these damn… _rifts_ opening up near the other fleets. The zerg are swarming them – I think the Overmind's responsible. General Desolas says he can hold for a little while, but the numbers are overwhelming. Short jumps aren't working, they're following too fast. Artanis, can you spare any of your vessels?"

"We are nigh spent," came the exhausted reply. "Desolas must hold as best he can. I am sorry."

"I… I see." From Adrien's tone, Jim guessed that a lot of turians were about to die in the cold of space. When he thought of Victus, it made him feel sad. When he thought of Saren, it almost made him stop caring. _Got enough to worry about. This last part, for example._

"The Cerebrate has made a vast nest for itself," said Fenix. "Alert General Duke. I need him to provide a distraction. James Raynor, with me." _Huh. This should be good._

Duke and what was left of the siege tank line were not far behind. Their armor was pitted with countless scorches and punctures, and their engines were chugging in a manner Jim judged unhealthy. Still, the general himself still seemed intact.

"What the hell you want now?" growled Duke. "We're close to the end, right? Make more damn gas balls and push forward!"

_You fucking idiot._ Jim watched Fenix take the protoss equivalent of a deep breath before proceeding.

"Do you see that hill, Duke?" asked Fenix, pointing to a darkened slope, the skeletons of several smaller asari structures clinging to it. "Take your tanks to the top of it and begin shelling the hive cluster. I will lead the protoss and batarians through. You will take everyone else. Yours will be a delaying action, so that we may slay the Cerebrate. Do you understand?"

"Do the heavy liftin' while you protoss wave your swords around," replied Duke. "I got it, I-" He made a choking sound and turned a bright red. With a shimmer, Zeratul appeared atop the tank beside Duke, his hand around the man's throat.

"You will offer us respect, Duke," said Zeratul, "and in return, I will not slide a blade between your ribs at the battle's end."

"Release him, Prelate," said Fenix, failing to contain the note of amusement in his words. Zeratul vanished as quickly as he arrived, and Duke vanished back into his tank with a curse. "Raynor, I am trusting you to reinforce this buffoon. Can you keep him and his alive long enough to make the difference?"

"I'm sure I can make _some_ difference," said Jim, feeling the pressure in his neck as he injected what was left of his stims. "Guess this is the end stretch."

The force separated into two; Jim followed the infantry and armor up the hill while the protoss and batarians walked in the wake of the Archon. Jim noted (with a small amount of trepidation) that his motion sensor was alive with signals, yet they were only coming from one direction. _That red patch. They're sendin' us a message. This is where you don't want to go - last chance._

The wind and rain had stopped, having been replaced with a menacing still that seemed out of place given the state Thessia was in. The siege tanks set up along the hilltop, flanked by what was left of the turian hover tanks and Umojan Goliaths. Jim sighed, checking his rifle one last time. _Twelve rounds left. Enough to serve up a bit of hurt._

"Hey," said Sarah, appearing like, heh, a ghost, "something we're good at. Holding a fortified position against the zerg. You okay?"

"You just stay beside me, darlin'," said Jim, finding a nearby outcropping of concrete and rebar and positioning his rifle atop it, "and I'll feel a lot better."

"Y'know," said Sarah, "I think I feel the same way."

"General Victus," said Fenix, still graciously letting the other leaders know what the plan was, "if you can provide any more orbital support, I have yet to see a more pressing need for it."

"Shots are blocked," snapped Adrien. "Damned Orbital Platform Siha is in the way. It's shifting slowly, but we won't be able to fire for another twenty minutes at least."

"That is a shame," said Fenix, and Jim could hear a hint of dread in his tone. _Shit, now even he's on the verge of giving up._ "Very well. We shall continue regardless. General Duke, we await your lead."

"Alright you goddamn apes," said Duke, "it's shitty weather and we're surrounded by aliens. Time to let the zerg feel the kind of bad day we're havin'. Fire at will, and watch for fliers."

His inspirational speech concluded, the arclite cannons thundered. Far below the hill, flames licked the barely visible hive structures, and Thessia drew in its breath.

The reaction from the zerg was immediate. Thousands of fliers rose into the skies and obscured the stars, their screeches sending a chill down Jim's back. The ground rumbled as the Swarm made its fury known, and Jim's motion sensors temporarily went mad as more and more targets came into range. Duke's fire did not slow, and it was now punctuated by the stuttering of rifles and the scream of homing missiles.

"There's a big one," said Jim, sighting an overlord that seemed positively stuffed. With a sharp crack, the rifle jerked upward and Jim chambered another round. He didn't need to check on his target, a different crash followed by a roar indicated his success… although it sounded like the overlord's payload had survived.

Sarah was crouched next to Jim, gun pointed at the sky, her red hair plastered against her scalp by the blood and rain. She fired in short bursts, aiming at the fliers that threatened to overrun their perimeter. _You're doin' a great job, darlin'. I know you can hear me._

Jim heard screams behind him. When he turned, it was to find turians and terrans alike impaled by foot long spikes, their cries dying in their throats. _Shit, these guys again._ He found them easily enough – and they were far closer than usual.

"GURGLING PROCLAMATION: THERE IS NOWHERE TO RUN!" bellowed the damned things as they advanced relentlessly, ignoring the hail of gunfire that slaughtered all other zerg around them. "FRENZIED SCREAM: THE PROTOSS HAVE FAILED YOU."

"What the hell is with these things?!" yelled Jim as he emptied his third round into the same target, finally dropping it. He was about to sight another one when he came across a familiar and _very_ unwelcome sight. "Oh, _goddamn it._ It's _him._"

Flanked on either side by six infested asari was the big blue elephant-bastard that had knocked Tassadar out of the fight. With a roar, it began charging up the hill. When Jim fired a round into its head, it bounced off harmlessly.

"I NEED BIOTICS!" screamed Jim, gesturing frantically for someone, _anyone_ to help him stop that thing before it got among the tanks. Someone kneeled close by, their hand glowing a soft blue. Jim chambered another shot.

"Round warped!" yelled Saren, and Jim was too panicked to feel anything other than relief.

"Firing!" The gun cracked, and there was a sound like glass shattering. The elephant-bastard buckled for a moment, and the asari alongside it vanished, charging into the fray. Shouts went up, and Jim saw a siege tank go up in flames. _Shit._

"Round warped!" Saren yelled again, and Jim remembered to chamber another shot. The elephant-bastard was almost on top of them. He fired again and abandoned the rifle, yelling at Saren and Sarah to fall back.

The creature broke through with the force of a wrecking ball. Its head was a bloody mess of drool and brains, but it did not lack for hate. Jim looked around frantically for a weapon while Sarah and Saren scattered, their rounds pelting the creature without apparent effect.

There were dead marines all around Jim, but he knew the weapons they carried would help him no more than it had them. _Heavy weapons, anything._ He felt heat to the left through his visor, and when he turned in that direction it was to find a siege tank burning. _Aw hell. Aw hell aw hell aw hell._

"HICK!" screamed Duke from behind him. Jim made an about face to find a sparking siege tank lodged in the ground, one of its treads having fallen off.

"I've lost control of the damn turret!" snarled Duke from inside the tank. "You want that thing dead? Grab the gun and start turning it! Climb on, dammit, I think it's after your girlfriend!"

Jim launched himself on top of the hull and grabbed ahold of the gun with both hands, wrapping his arms around it as best as he could. With a lurch, it began to turn.

"Right! Not that far right! Kerrigan, if you're readin' my mind, get that thing to stop moving!" Duke's yells were barely audible above the surrounding chaos. "Up! DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT DIRECTION "UP" IS YOU GODDAMN YOKEL?! Yes! Left! Hold… hold…" Jim panted, half-crouched, ready to dive from the tank at a moment's notice.

"Only a 29% chance of friendly fire? Well hell! I'd say that's good enough. Cover your ears, hick."

"You son of a-" Jim dove off of the tank as the _boom_ of the arclite cannon rung through his ears. The explosion that followed it drove sound away altogether.

Jim's vision blurred. From his left, the gun fired again. Jim had fallen over, but didn't remember doing so. A scaly hand lifted him up, somehow lifting him even through the armor. The helpful figure left him in a standing position, and Jim did his best to bear his own weight, though he was not sure what good it would do anymore. _Can't feel my feet… legs… arms… hands… head is pounding._ _Vision blurred._

An ugly alien face filled his visor. _Saren._ The alien was shouting something at him, but Jim couldn't remember anything other than a thousand thousand zerg descending on Tarsonis… and now here. His fists clenched. Saren's hand collided with the side of Jim's helmet, and Jim could tell he was shouting. _What? What could you possibly say that would matter? You killed a planet and now the world is ending. I hope at least I took that fucking elephant with me._

"Jim…" it was Sarah's voice, speaking directly into his head. "Jim… look." Something compelled Jim to look toward the red patch in the distance. It flickered, and then flashed. Even through the buzz of far too many close by explosions, Jim _heard_ the zerg's reaction. _Panic. Outrage. Holy shit. Fenix and Zeratul did it._

Flashes of white smote the horizon – General Victus finally had a clear shot. Jim stood still among the shattered survivors. They were safely gathered on their little island amid a shifting sea of fleeing zerg.

"…ou unwell?" The asari justicar was here. She walked with a limb, her previously unflappable countenance now sullied by injury. Jim looked into her eyes and just nodded.

"I'm ready to go home. Can we go home? What is there left to do?"

"We're… we're almost there, Jim," said Sarah, uncloaking at Jim's side. "You and Duke killed the thing… I think… for now. Now we just have to finish what created it. The protoss are waiting." Sarah extended a shaking finger into the distance. Three balls of gaseous light flickered in the dark. _More sacrifices. Was that for us?_

"Yeah," said Jim, one foot moving forward, then another. "Yeah… I can do that. This. I can do this." He didn't notice as everyone else stopped dead. It was only when he saw the red on the horizon turn a bright blue that he realized something was wrong.

A great tendril of energy had extended into the atmosphere, tugging on something. Victus was yelling something on the channel, Jim could see the protoss hauling ass back to where they were standing – _away from the Overmind _– but it didn't register. From high above, swiftly becoming visible through the clouds, the Overmind slowly pulled Orbital Platform Siha into the planet.

"Mother of God..." Jim drew in a deep breath and just sat down. Everyone around him was going crazy, but he had never felt more calm in his life. _Weird. Complete helplessness feels the same as feeling completely in control._

Jim laughed a mirthless laugh until he was shoved over by rough hands from behind. The last thing he saw before the world began shaking was Saren standing over him, a blue shield cast over both himself and Jim.

Then there was nothing.


	39. Poetry

**Tassadar**

The cold seeped past Tassadar's bones and nipped at his very spirit. His wakening was not sudden – there was no abrupt start as his mind conjured some horror that forced him into consciousness. Tassadar awoke with the ponderousness of an acolyte with a day of ritualized combat before him, slow and unwilling, scarcely cognizant of his surroundings.

_Executor._

His surroundings were unfamiliar. He rose to his full height and found the steel ceiling uncomfortably close to his own head. The ground underneath him hummed with energy, an energy that intensified every few seconds. _The ship is continually shifting. Recoil. I am on a warship._

The images came flooding back then, and Tassadar realized where the cold stemmed from. _Fear. They are afraid. Khalai, Nerazim, turian, terran… even zerg. All afraid._ Screams echoed through the Khala. Tassadar shivered.

He had been placed among row after row of gurneys upon which lay injured soldiers of numerous species, many of whom had bloodied cloth where their limbs had once been. Tassadar looked down upon them with a mixture of sorrow and pride at their sacrifice; they had stood shoulder to shoulder with the mightiest warriors of the protoss and had not shamed themselves. _But is that the best we can give them? A good death? They deserve victory._

Tassadar's armor had been badly damaged, parts of it sticking into his shoulder and leg as he walked. It was not enough to cause him much more than mild discomfort, but it conjured forth more images of the creatures responsible for landing him in a makeshift turian medbay. _Biotic zerg. The Overmind staring at me from Zeratul's eyes._

Tassadar had never stood upon a turian vessel before now, though he knew on instinct it was the very same ship that had made him contact with him at Mar Sara, months ago. It filled him with a strange sense of portent, as if things had come around full circle somehow. _The turians and I… Victus and Tassadar. Linked by circumstance._ He staggered out of the room to find the packed with grim turian soldiers. They spared him only a glance before continuing about their duties, shoving past him without issue. _Fear. They are more concerned with what is happening below than a rogue protoss aboard their ship._

Following the current of fear, Tassadar half marched, half limped through the trains of turian sailors, trying not to let the twin tides of confusion and dismay dampen his spirit. _It is not victory. Perhaps victory is yet to be had?_ He dismissed the idea that the battle was lost. He knew the ship was firing its weapon. _But at what target?_

The bridge was closer than Tassadar would have expected, and the atmosphere there was no more joyful. General Adrien Victus was standing bolt upright before a glowing layout of Thessia, staring out at the turians manning their consoles with an unnatural stillness.

"Confirmed hit, no effect," reported a turian to the general.

"Fire again," said Adrien, voice clipped. The ship surged with energy once more, and Tassadar, a sinking sensation in his hearts, started to intuit what they were firing at. _What has happened?_

"Confirmed hit," said the turian again, his voice betraying not the slightest hint of the fear that Tassadar sensed racing through his mind. "No effect."

"Fire again," said Adrien, mandibles shifting back. He stank of despair.

"General Victus!" said Tassadar, causing heads to turn as he announced himself to the bridge. "I live, though I know not how I came to be here. How fares the battle?"

"Confirmed hit," said the aide, voice now shaking slightly. "No effect."

Adrien sighed deeply, mind coming to a sudden conclusion. "Cease barrage. All ships." His eys met Tassadar's, giving the protoss pause. "The ground offensive is lost. What is left of the Council fleets is trying to flee the Ialessa system. Your fleet still stands – barely – and we control the orbit." Victus gave a mirthless laugh. "It has done us no good. I have spent the last fifteen minutes firing _Momentum's_ main gun at the Overmind. The ground burns, the zerg around it die, but the thing is unkillable. So there is only one recourse left to us." _Retreat._

"How?" asked Tassadar quietly. "What happened to the push?"

Adrien pointed to the readout of Thessia. A large swathe of dust now blanketed the Overmind's surroundings. "It pulled an orbital platform on top of our troops. Spirits… how do you fight something like that?" He shook his head sharply. "I… am sorry."

Tassadar felt down below, found only the faintest flickering of life from where he knew his friends had once stood. There, right alongside them, was the Overmind – bloated, gloating, Its eye staring back at him.

"It shouldn't have ended like this," said Adrien, voice calm, but his mind wracked with exhaustion, guilt, and _fear_. _Fear_ above all. "We united a disparate galaxy – quickly, even – sacrificed so much to get here… but that _Thing_ just sits there, deflecting our efforts at the very last moment! The killing stroke turned out to be the only one that mattered." Adrien coughed, trying to bring himself back under control. "I am sorry, Tassadar. Artanis refuses to fall back. I do not have the time or the means to take you to him, if that is what you want. Third Fleet… gets to limp away once again."

Tassadar looked to Adrien, and then to the readout. The dust swirled thick. The Overmind stared back.

_Is this how it ends? Was the fate of the galaxy's peoples simply to be twisted into monstrous forms at the behest of some vile intelligence?_ Tassadar stared at the exact position of his enemy. _Fear. Fear smothers this vessel. Victus's. Mine._

…_the Overmind's._

It was undeniable. The emotion roiled through Thessia, thick as the dust the orbital platform had kicked up, coating _Momentum_ with it. Tassadar reached out, tried not to recoil as zerg minds brushed with his, attempting to establish the most tentative of contact. The Overmind met Tassadar and recoiled. _I… I am the cause of Its fear. But why? No Dark Templar remain to slay it._

"Seven Nerazim," Zeratul had said, the memory of his voice leaping unbidden into Tassadar's mind. "Wielding the Khala alongside one of our blades, Tassadar…."

Tassadar looked to his wrist, tried to activate his weapon. It sparked futilely, lighting up once before deadening. It did not react again.

"You must understand that this is not about power," Zeratul had said once as they trudged across the wastes of Char. "In some ways, this is not even about knowledge. It is about perspective."

_The Overmind's perspective. It fears me._ Tassadar's arms ached from numerous wounds. His hearts thudded dully in his chest. The Khala was drowned with the despair of too many close by Templar. Tassadar opened a hand and closed it, channeling a small amount of Void energy up his arm. As the ribbons of purple energy wormed their way throughout the woven flesh and spirit, the fear intensified. _I… I see._

"When you merged the energies, your body began to die." Zeratul had looked to him with as if they had always been brothers, his eyes both noble and sad. "Nothing irreversible, but such connections are inevitably fatal if held for too long. Adun burnt away into nothing, protecting us. How did you feel?"

_Zeratul… I felt afraid._

"General Adrien Victus," said Tassadar quietly, directing the thought to him alone. "I can win this battle, but I need you. I need _Momentum._ Order your men off the ship."

"How?" Adrien's response was blunt, and thought rather than spoken. "The protoss have worked miracles, but this is an enemy that cannot be slain."

"Take a trajectory directly to the Overmind, collision course," said Tassadar. "I… I will handle the rest. Are you willing? Do you trust me?"

Memories flashed through Adrien's mind, snatches of horror. _Relentless_ drifting lifeless through unknown space. Tassadar declaring in no uncertain terms his distaste for the Council and the people within it. The protoss offensive collapsing underneath the Overmind's might. Then… a turian, a younger turian. _I so often forget how frequently other sapients breed. He is a father while I am not._ _I am so sorry._

"We hold similar ideals, Tassadar," said Adrien, all fear and doubt fading. "Our peoples, I mean. Honor. Glory in battle. Victory through sacrifice. Even if this fails… I die knowing I did all I could for my son. For the empire." His thoughts turned again to his son. "I… would have liked to see him in person, one last time. I would have liked to walk upon Palaven, again."

"All ships, all crew!" bellowed Adrien, startling the other turians on the bridge, "this is General Victus. I will shortly be ramming the Overmind at Tassadar's suggestion. Grab the wounded and get to the evac shuttles. It has been an honor." Adrien looked to Tassadar, a steely glint in his eye. The turians around him were scrambling for the doors, half of them quite certain their general had gone mad. Those that saw the ribbon of dark energy coursing up Tassadar's arm, however, began to think otherwise. "It is your turn, Tassadar. It will take me some time to establish a vector. Then it is a matter of accelerating and… then we need not do anything at all."

"Act quickly," said Tassadar, concentrating on his arm. Slowly, he felt his psi appendages begin to light, and his brothers rejoiced to sense his presence again. His other arm started pulsing with heat.

"Tassadar, what are you doing?" Artanis sounded frantic. "Such energies… what are you doing?!"

Tassadar shut his eyes, trying to calm the fluttering of his hearts. He extended his will further, blanketing the scarred surface of the planet, seeking out the faint heartbeats of those he had fought alongside.

_Kerrigan._ _Raynor. Fenix. _They were dying so slowly, protected by their suits but still suffocating under the layers of ash and dust, of flesh and filth. The Overmind had called down the orbital platform on top of one Its own hive clusters – an act of desperate vengeance against the foes that threatened It. _It killed scores of Its own children to do this..._

"**Our people hold similar ideals," **sneered the Overmind, latching on to Tassadar with a hideous strength. **"Victory through sacrifice. You do not understand My purpose. Our peoples are to be one. You think Me to be the greatest horror you have ever beheld, but I represent victory for all organic life. I am the end of the cycle. My death would make certain its recurrence. You would surrender this galaxy to the hands of machines?"**

_If it means Your death, then I am quite willing._ Tassadar frowned, his hearts beating faster as he reached the limits of his ability with the Khala. The Overmind's grip fell away, having weakened in the face of Void energies. _I can feel every living creature on Thessia. I fear not death, for the Khala is eternal… but I accept death regardless, for in the end all is Void._

The darkness of the Void slithered further up Tassadar's arm, reaching his collarbone. _Close._ Artanis was panicking, and _Momentum _had begun shedding shuttles and escape pods as its crew evacuated, fleeing for the closest cruiser, confused and scared.

"Tassadar?" Artanis yelled, his voice echoing through Tassadar's mind. "Tassadar!"

His psi appendages flowing behind him and glowing a luminescent aqua, Tassadar felt for the Element Zero core of _Momentum. _It flared at his caress, causing Victus to shout in alarm as his instruments went wild. Tassadar paid him no mind, focusing intensely on the sensation of cold wrapping slowly around his neck, trying to reconcile it with the Khala, with the teachings he had followed all his life.

"**We are bound in this together, protoss!" **snarled the Overmind, grabbing Tassadar's being only to begin slipping almost immediately. **"The xel'naga willed Our union. Would you defy your gods?"**

The Overmind fell away as quickly as It had appeared. Fear rippled through Thessia. Not a single zerg obeyed the Overmind's command to approach _Momentum._

Tassadar stilled. He was one with his brothers in the Khala, terrified as they were, and the numb darkness had almost reached the base of his scalp, the very foundation of his racial gestalt. _This is the moment. The moment I either surrender myself completely… or fall back and find another way._

_There is so much still to be done. The Conclave waits for the rebels to face justice. The geth require salvation. The Council peoples lie shattered under the zerg onslaught. The terran people still stand divided. The Nerazim remain outcasts._

Tassadar's eyes opened.

_But first, the Pretender God must be slain._

"Trajectory locked," said Adrien, the ship beginning to shift under their feet. "Tassadar… I am ready." Victus faltered and then stiffened, staring into the Overmind on the readout, a wry smile on his face. "It ends as it began."

With a final lurch, the scintillating dark energy locked with Tassadar's appendage, creeping up through the base and into the very foundation of his being. Tassadar gasped, his hearts thundering in his chest as if they were fit to burst. Silver light burned its way from his skull, and his mind became unbound.

With a gesture, a halo of dust and ash spread from the place his friend's bodies lay, bringing air and heat where there had been none. _A trifling matter._ Tassadar forgot why he had done such a thing as soon as he had finished. His mind sped through the stars, ricocheting across the consciousness of sapients.

_The krogan have barricaded themselves on Tuchanka, laughing as the rest of the galaxy burns._

_A thousand thousand elcor mourn the countless families torn apart._

_The quarians look to each other in fear as they sense the reverberations, praying that the geth will not be attracted by the energy spike._

_The Council has lost contact with their people. They will see only the aftermath, and understand it not._

_Arcturus Mengsk waits with bated breath, wondering if his ploy had worked, if perhaps he should have stayed his hand and fought harder against the zerg to begin with._

_Jack Harper speaks with a shadowy being whose rage and grief knows no bounds. "Duran" scowls and turns as he feels my presence, but he is no concern of mine._

_Daggoth shakes in his nest, screaming at his brood warriors to approach the vessel that threatens his Father. The chrysalis beside him throbs with life and warmth._

_The Conclave looks up at the sudden surge of energy, their minds aghast at the power they bear witness to. Their rhetoric halts, and they find themselves at a loss of words for the first time in a millennia._

_Far away on a planet that was once green, instruments spike as my consciousness seeks them out. A terran admiral sputters in confusion before demanding an explanation from his baffled intelligence experts, his iron convictions momentarily shaken._

_And in the darkness outside the galaxy, the Reapers slumber, still unaware of how badly things have gone awry._

On and on the images cascaded, each as beautiful and yet no more significant than a raindrop in a raging thunderstorm. Before the body that had once housed Tassadar stood Adrien Victus, facing away from the glowing figure and staring resolutely at the foe he had failed to slay.

_All that power… all this knowledge…_ The psi appendages that had once been Tassadar's smoldered, burning towards the back of his scalp, their purpose having been met, and then exceeded. What had once been Tassadar's bones blackened and his hearts charred, but his mind was alive with ecstasy, intentions almost forgotten.

The bridge was coming alive with warnings, red flashes indicating an improper altitude for a dreadnought that was accelerating at improper speeds, bound for an improperly solid destination. Tassadar was not there. His mind had punched toward the layers of the universe and found them feeble, unworthy of his respect or attention. The journey neared its end.

_All these moments… lead to here. If only I had known there was no need for all of that fear… all of that rage. Only a single thing yet vexes me, in these last moments of corporality. Brothers and sisters, bound by stardust, how can I explain the glory that awaits you?_

The body of Tassadar, fading fast inside the growing bubble of light that flashed between the darkest of purples and the brightest of golds, found itself temporarily tethered by frustration at the lack of words that could clearly express what lay ahead. Tassadar's smoking sockets locked with Victus's retinas, who looked back in a mixture of incalculable fear and utter confusion. Tassadar bowed his body's head, trying to remember how to make it clear that what he said was of import.

"They should… have sent a poet!"

The Element Zero pulsed, and psi lightning arced through the meaningless metal. Adrien's form was flung from the vessel as the hull gave in to the tremendous stresses, large strips of metal ripped away by titanic and unknowable forces. Tassadar's body stood among the wreckage, willing his surroundings into their true form – that of pure energy. The Overmind, that feeble, wretched thing, had opened some pathetic rift in an attempt to escape. _Experience eternity with me, brother. _What had once been a ship closed the distance.

With a final groan, Tassadar's body evaporated completely, consumed by the energies he had harnessed. Tassadar rejoiced in his spiritual liberation, at the sense of reckless dispersal brought about by the total cessation of his form. His atoms flowed through the universe in a manner far more natural than his body ever had, and Tassadar almost forgot, for a moment, what he had originally intended.

With a ghostly shrug, he let the forces he had unleashed grab hold of _Momentum's_ gutted carcass, let the combination of harsh physics, cold Void, and burning Khala do with the Overmind what it would. The Overmind, seconds from escaping, watched the approaching wreckage with Its single eye, which widened in fear. There was enough of Tassadar left to find that amusing.

_Momentum_ collided with the Overmind with tremendous force, her splintered prow spearing the Being through and through. The Overmind screeched in agony as the Void penetrated Its writhing mass and reacted violently with the cosmic energies the Being had once claimed proudly to wield. Its eye blackened from the heat, and Its pain was so great that zerg across the galaxy fell dead in shock. Glowing orange cracks appeared across the Overmind's form, and the creature shook violently.

With a final heave, the Overmind burst entirely, showering Its former surroundings with carapace and gore. The heavens flashed white as the creature left Its body behind, forcibly severed from Its progeny. What was left of Tassadar marveled momentarily at the sight before losing interest. His final coherent thoughts were a fond farewell to the bipedal beings that gasped and awakened on the surface of the planet.

He wasn't sure, but they might have been important once.


	40. Queen of Ruins

**Liara**

Liara had sometimes dreamed she could breathe underwater.

It wasn't an uncommon dream among asari. Thessia was covered in vast oceans, and she herself had spent much time on the shores, darting in and out of the water and through the waves, all the while under the watchful eye of her mother.

When she dreamt of diving deep among schools of Ialessa Paddlefish, her lungs passing the lukewarm saltwater with comforting ease, she usually woke with a gentle sigh, pleased at the pleasant nature of the dream, yet often dearly wishing it was more than fantasy.

Now, she breathed deeply, sucking in the warm liquid and pushing it back out without fear or urgency, utterly at peace. _Soon I will wake up. And something tells me that something important waits for me._

Liara was apprehensive about the waking. The faint tension and anxiety that nestled in the back of her mind typically heralded one of a few things: that there was some paper due tomorrow, perhaps one of her findings was in question, or some idiot fellow archaeologist had badly damaged something she had been looking forward to examining in detail.

Liara shifted, her face pressing against whatever soft material her blanket was made out of. The liquid had been growing cooler for the last… she wasn't sure. _This hasn't happened before – the water losing its temperature. What does it mean, I wonder?_ Liara, locked in a state of controlled dreaming, began to stir. Her eyes opened.

_No._ Her vision was obscured by some orange, membranous material. The shadow of her hand clawed the edges and found it fibrous, strong. Liara kicked and discovered her body suspended in fluid – her feet barely glanced against the bottom of… whatever this was. Her head twisted and found its motion obstructed, a stiff tube running down her throat. _No. No no no no no-_

Liara's hands flared, the light of her biotics shining past whatever in the Goddess she was locked inside. Images of zerg, of geth, of Reapers flashed through her mind at frightening speeds, making her heart race at unholy speeds. With a gargled cry, she let loose with her biotics, her hands pulsing with frantic energy.

The walls of her prison _exploded_ in a shower of putrid liquid. The strange material was ripped asunder, shredded with such force that Liara momentarily forgot her panic in sheer surprise of what she had just done.

Her feet touched the ground and she fell to her knees. With a nauseating gurgle, Liara reached for the tube and pulled it out of her throat, letting it fall free as soon as she had removed it from her trachea. The tube lay glistening on the ground like some beached eel, its pronged end colored a slight red. Liara, unable to tear her eyes from it, heaved once, and then twice, emptying yet more foul-smelling fluid on to the blackened soil and ruined membrane. _The soil looks familiar._

Liara barely registered that thought, however. Her mind, her very soul was consumed by the sight of that little funnel, of what it meant. _What… what happened to me?_

The Thorian, that great plant. She remembered that much. She had been brought to Feros by… Sovereign. They had found zerg. _Daggoth. Daggoth wanted… oh no. NO._

"Improper to panic," said a deep voice from behind her. "By estimate, most powerful being in known galaxy. Little to fear."

Slowly, so slowly, Liara rose from her kneeling position. Ignoring the horrible squishing sounds her heels made as she turned about face, she took a deep breath and faced the fresh hell she knew was behind her.

A massive zerg entity stared back at her. Hulking, it bore several appendages that surrounded its main mass, each hooked and bearing glowing green barbels. Its face – what passed for its face – looked into her hers, eyes glowing with a strange intelligence, mouth expelling a steady stream of viscous liquid.

"My queen," said he, offering, of all things, the best equivalent to a bow that could be expected, given its anatomy. "Prepared to offer information, advice. Many questions. Little time. Name is Abathur."

"What… what _happened?_" Liara's voice rose to a hissing screech as she tried and failed to contain her horror. She looked down at her hands, only to feel another stab of panic. Where once had been smooth blue skin, now there was a series of interlocking blue plates. Looking at her torso, it was to find her entire body armored in some kind of stiff carapace. When her head jerked to the side, something tickled the back of her neck. Reaching back, her fingers touched a series of short, bristly appendages jutting from her scalp fringe, falling a ways down her neck. In shock, she gently tugged one and felt immediately dizzy.

"Long process, many iterations," said the abomination before her. "Scrubbing Indoctrination, no known process. Assumed similar to link between Overmind and Cerebrates. Flawed assumption, still mostly correct. Replaced degenerated neural tissue with zerg strand sequences. Augmented tissue to resist trauma. Reactivated latent Ardat-Yakshi gene strains for better psionic sensitivity and biotic power. Added rudimentary psi appendages to compensate for lacking psionic physiology. Incorporate-"

"Stop," said Liara, but it was clear Abathur was not listening.

"-d hydralisk and dekuunalisk strand sequences to allow for projectile weaponry," continued Abathur, glowing eyes scanning Liara's back. "Left rudimentary limbs for usage of biotics. Infused cells with Element Zero to further increase biotic power. Further increased efficiency of regenerative tissues with specialized vorcha cells-"

"Stop!" said Liara, stepping towards the creature. This still did not shake it from its reverie.

"-to allow for potential battlefield recoveries in face of sustained trauma or assault. Added advanced zerg command organism mutagens to allow for command of large numbers of zerg organisms, even superseding Cerebrate control. Overmind explicitly requested adaptation to allow for independent thinking and survival outside Its influence. Strange foresight. Evolution chrysalis required separate design. Made –"

"ENOUGH!" Liara shouted, hands flaring blue once again. Abathur quieted, meeting her gaze without any apparent fear.

"Taking control. Good. Display more signs of life than Daggoth." Abathur began to move, his slug-like body trailing slime. "Follow. Am researcher, spinner of strands. Unsuited for explanation. Daggoth knows more. Daggoth has waited."

Liara, taking a deep breath, began her first unsteady steps. To her surprise, it was to find movement… easier. Fluid. Her breathing was light and easy, and her feet propelled her with the kind of vigorousness that put her in mind of her early youth, when she had still cared for regular athletic activity. She caught up with Abathur easily and walked alongside him, slowly realizing just where she was.

_I suppose I should have known the minute Abathur mentioned Daggoth. This is Therum. Where I meant to go all along._

Ash fell thick from its skies, and in many places the earth glowed a livid orange from the exposed lava beds. Cinders glistened in the air as Liara followed the creature responsible for her… birth, but she did not feel the heat, nor did the horrid quality of the air vex her. Now, slowly, ever so slowly, she became aware of the signs of life around her.

Her feet, armored and hideous as they were, could sense vibrations. All around her, zerg slept, waiting the order from their beloved Cerebrate to rise. They stirred at her passing, but it never occurred to the creatures that it was prey walking overhead. They reacted in the same manner they would if any of their kind made passage – noted it, but did not become aggressive. High above, overlords drifted listlessly, and Liara knew, somehow, that they were ill-at-ease. _Is this… is this what it feels to be psionic?_

Her mind reached out for Abathur's, and she found the strange being all too willing to indulge her prodding. Memories of a volcanic world much like Therum crossed her vision, and the Overmind's countless orders and improvements echoed through Liara's head. _This… it doesn't feel as I thought it would. Infestation is nothing like Indoctrination. _The fear, primal and all-consuming, was fading away. What was replacing it… was hard to describe.

Abathur stopped before a small hill, his bulk quivering as he suddenly fell still. One of his hooked limbs pointed up the hill.

"Go. Both greatest of Overmind's children. Discussion needed. Agreement must be reached, for good of Swarm."

"You think I'm part of the Swarm?" asked Liara, almost trying to hold back laughter. _This feeling… it's the feeling of being in control._

"You are zerg apex organism," said Abathur, tone neutral. "Many will hate. Some will envy. Decision yours. Freedom yours. Daggoth will explain."

With a shrug (how wonderful it felt to be able to be flippant!) Liara passed Abathur and began climbing the ash-soaked hill. She reached its shallow summit easily.

Inside, stirring faintly, was an enormous, gray, brain-like entity. As Liara looked down upon it, it struggled feebly. Liara sensed waves of pain and rank desperation from the creature. _Daggoth._

"Too late," moaned the Cerebrate. "Too late you waken. You were needed on Thessia. You were to be the last… the greatest of Father's children. Too late. Too late…."

"Daggoth," said Liara, her voice sounding and feeling so much firmer than the Cerebrate's feeble whining, "tell me what has happened."

"We took you from the bloated Thorian," wheezed Daggoth, "the Overmind had long sought a sapient being of sufficient psionic power. To take you from the thrall of a Reaper… to add such delicious insult… how could we resist?"

"I am infested," said Liara, the words leaving her mouth before she had really thought them. She paused, wondering why she wasn't afraid. "I am infested."

"Infested, yes," said Daggoth. "But indoctrinated? No. And with Father… gone…"

"Gone?" asked Liara. _Am I… am I free?_

"Dead," choked Daggoth. "Dead. DEAD!" Liara faltered as the Cerebrate writhed in sudden agony, and the zerg all around them began to cry out, their screams sounding strangely haunting amidst the charred wastes. After about a minute of this bizarre requiem, Daggoth fell still, and silence descended once more.

"No… no child should have to outlive their god."

"How did It die?" asked Liara, feeling oddly melancholy for a moment. _I guess even the zerg couldn't kill my empathy. Whatever they are, however monstrous… it is clear they view themselves as no more a villain than anyone else. _

"The protoss," said Daggoth, the word a drawn out hiss. "The protoss found a way to undo eternity, to tear apart the foundations of divinity. Tassadar, damnable Tassadar, he rammed a vessel infused with infernal energies into Father. Too much. It was too much. Now… darkness falls over the Zerg Swarm."

"You're still alive," said Liara, quickly wondering how she had found herself in the position where she would offer sympathy to a zerg Cerebrate. "You have your own zerg. And… did other Cerebrates survive?"

"They are far, far from here," moaned Daggoth, despairing. "Some on Thessia, being hunted down by the surviving Dark Templar. Two on Char, at the mercy of the terrans. I have lost contact. Our gestalt is failing. The Swarm fractures."

"That's… that's too bad," said Liara. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you're in so much pain. I'm not tremendously sorry that your Swarm lost, but…" Something dawned on Liara. "Thessia?"

"We took Thessia," said Daggoth, causing that all too familiar sensation of fear to bloom in Liara's chest. "The Overmind was bathed in Element Zero. It was beautiful."

"You _took_ Thessia?" snarled Liara, her hands rippling with energy once more. She towered over Daggoth, suddenly feeling a sense of motion on her back. When she turned, confused, it was to find two sets of thick limbs bristling with spines splayed out from behind her. They felt beautifully powerful.

"We meant to take the galaxy," whispered Daggoth. "As it was written. Put an end to the Reaper's madness. Ensure the dominance of the flesh over the metal. Even here, trembling before the encroaching cold, death and defeat certain, I still feel that to be a worthy goal. Strike me down, Doctor T'soni. Reunite me with my god."

Liara looked down at the mewling creature before her and sighed. Her rear appendages folded and snapped back into place, like the wings of some great insect. With a deep breath, she tried to restore control of her emotions.

"The Reapers," said Liara. "Sovereign. Where is he?"

"Dead," replied Daggoth, a faint note of happiness creeping into his voice. "The protoss have no patience for gods, it seems. He died horrified at the prospect of a zerg victory."

_Yes, well I am sure plenty of people have been doing that recently._ Still, Liara brought a clawed hand to her chin, thinking. _Dead. Good. Rot in whatever cold hell machines are sent to, you lying bastard. I suppose my ploy with the Cypher worked._ A giggle, slightly hysterical, clawed its way out of Liara's throat. _Did I… did I save the galaxy? Me?_

"Damn you…" muttered Daggoth. "It did not… have to end like this."

"No," said Liara, smiling broadly. "There were plenty of ways it could have ended… but I think this might have been one of the better ones!" She giggled again, but then immediately felt guilty. _Thessia is likely lost. They may never rebuild, knowing the Swarm._ Still, other worlds that she had visited leapt to mind. _They… they didn't all go. I suppose someone had to make the sacrifice. Perhaps… perhaps this is simply the signal to the end of an era. The Koprulu sector opened, and everything changed. _She looked down at her hands, now so strong and thickly armored. _Everything._

"The Reapers still wait," said Daggoth, his voice raspy in Liara's mind. "You think this is the victory, the coming of some new era? All it is, is simply the reassertion of the cycle. A reestablishment of the heinous status quo. The Swarm was your only hope, Doctor T'soni. And now it is dead. The Reapers will come to this galaxy and cleanse with a fury and power that cannot be matched."

"The protoss have killed one Reaper already," said Liara, trying to forget her time spent in the hull of Sovereign, of the way the red walls had _pulsed_, the way the whispers had crawled into her mind. "I'm sure they will find themselves able to duplicate the feat."

"The protoss make pretensions of ancient power, but they are fledgling," said Daggoth. "Moreover, their people are divided, poised for all-out war. The Reapers have had millions of years to gather their strength, and they stand together, always. Only the Swarm could have gathered an equally united force to oppose them."

Liara bit her lip and found it of an unfamiliar hardness. _I didn't… I didn't save the galaxy, did I? Just bought it some more time… bought myself some more time._ She looked at her hands again, at her armored torso, and stretched her neck back to gaze at the folded extra limbs that lay across her shoulders. She felt out with her mind and found the zerg reacted eagerly, her presence warming them. Their thoughts and instincts, while feral and hostile to non-zerg life, were curiously loving to those they judged their family.

Liara reached up into the skies and looked curiously into the minds of the zerg she found there. The overlords, to her surprise, were actually sapient, reacting to her questing tendrils of thought with what were unmistakably genial salutations. She replied in kind, and the overlords were well pleased at her response, following it up with a request that she do something for their Cerebrate, Daggoth.

Stretching further, trying to ignore the pangs of sadness that should, to be completely blunt, be _utterly inappropriate_ to feel, given the circumstances, she found what she was looking for. Vast, ponderous, and afraid, the leviathan latched on to Liara like a child to its mother. She didn't have the heart to shake it off, choosing instead to maintain the link. _I shouldn't feel this way. I shouldn't feel… responsible. Guilty. Sad. I should be rejoicing. The ploy worked. Both Sovereign and the Overmind are dead!_

"Every war is both lost and won," mother had once said, her legs folded as she sat on the beach towel, looking to her young daughter who had just made her first racially insensitive remark regarding the krogan. "True, there are some conflicts where there is no clear victor, but that is not what I am speaking of. Yes, the Council won the Krogan Rebellions, and yes, that was the desirable outcome for our people, but we cannot forget what that victory has done to the people we owed so much to. The onus was upon the Council to help pick up the pieces afterward as best we could, and we did not. Have you ever witnessed a failed krogan birth, Liara? Do you want to? Do you want to see the pain in the eyes of the woman as her child is stillborn? How must it feel, I wonder, to lose so much? The asari don't know. I pray they never will."

_So. Here it is on the other side. A bunch of scared bugs, pining for their god. Broken. Terrified._

_But not alone. And not without some potential use._

Liara closed her eyes. The prospect of what lay ahead did not scare as much as perhaps it should. She had often traveled for large lengths of time alone, both among the stars and on dig sites. To be forced to skirt the edges of the galaxy, to be forced to avoid populated planets for fear of what the inhabitants might do… was it really that different from what she wanted? She had spent so much time on the fringes already. _And this time… I guess I won't really be alone._

_Alright, T'soni. You bought the galaxy time, but the Reapers are still at large. You're a zerg, and the zerg god just died. You're probably the only one who knows what has happened, what's going to happen… and you've got an army at your disposal._

_What would mother do?_

"Daggoth," said Liara firmly, causing the Cerebrate to cease his shivering, "enough. There is work to be done."

"There is nothing left," moaned Daggoth, sparking irritation in Liara. "The Overmind is-"

"Shut up," said Liara, causing Daggoth to swell with outrage at how casually she said it. "The Overmind is dead. I'm infested. The Reapers are looking down on us and rubbing their bastard metal fingers. We can't change these things, but it is not the end. We've got time, we've got knowledge, and we're still alive."

"Not… not for long," said Daggoth. "A few more months, at most. The Cerebrates were bound most inextricably…."

"That's… I'm sorry," said Liara, meaning it. "But we have an obligation. The zerg might not have won, but organic life still has a chance. I mean to capitalize."

"You?" Daggoth sounded amused, but also… impressed? Proud? "You… you would take command of this ragged brood?"

"Well, _you_ seem to have given up!" said Liara, grinding a heel into the soil, letting dirt cascade into Daggoth's nest. "Would the Overmind have wanted you to wallow here, useless? From what I've seen of the zerg, I don't believe it. Get up. Fight!"

"My queen!" said Daggoth eagerly, surging to life. Across Therum, zerg listened eagerly.

Liara paused, trying to ascertain whether this was what she wanted. _It's not really about want. I didn't "want" to give the Cypher to both Daggoth and Sovereign, but it was what was best. I didn't "want" to be infested, but now I am free._

_I don't "want" to be the queen for a horde of homicidal space bugs. But… if some good can come out of it, then I owe it to the galaxy._

_It's what mother would have done. I think I'll paint this brood yellow._

With a sad smile, Liara beckoned to the leviathan. From the base of the hill, she could feel Abathur watching with a mix of pride and trepidation as the beast descended, shadowing their surroundings.

It landed not far from Daggoth's nest, its gaping mouth extending, beckoning. With barely any effort at all, Liara pried Daggoth from his home with her biotics, his amorphous mass trailing behind her like some ghastly cape. Daggoth laughed with a mixture of hysteria and excitement; the idea that he could become part of something that wasn't written, wasn't preordained, was strangely exhilarating.

Liara stopped at the mouth of the leviathan, calling the overlords to begin picking up as many zerg as possible. She stretched a glowing hand to the beast's hide, stroking it.

_A living starship._

"Dis…" she muttered, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. _Why… why would they give a zerg the ability to cry?_

Abathur passed her, murmuring something about "my queen" and "strand sequences." Liara watched him vanish inside. With Daggoth trailing behind her, she entered the belly of the beast.

At the heart of the leviathan was a space ship, the means the zerg had used to activate the mass relays. Not yet feeling comfortable with the idea of perhaps sleeping in the guts of a loyal space whale, Liara left Daggoth in the corner to curl up like some pet varren, and entered the ship.

It had been a small cargo ship once, Liara was pretty sure. She walked within the darkened wreck without fear, remembering her own ship that likely remained on Eden Prime. _The Donnellys. I had almost forgotten. _

"If they could see me now," she said, stopping herself. It was pointless. _Things I can't change. Rest assured, when I'm done, the Reapers will not be forgetting the Donnellys._

The brood had collected itself as best as it was able. The greatest warriors had died on Thessia, defending the Overmind they had so loved. Now it was made up of only the most basic hive defenders, with the leviathan remaining the most advanced organism at their disposal.

Liara wasn't sure where she was bound, but she had all the time in the world to figure it out. As the leviathan lurched into the skies, trailed by the countless overlords that proclaimed their undying affection for their new queen, Liara smiled and exited the craft, looking at the ailing form of Daggoth.

"I suppose… now I, am sovereign," said she, and Daggoth beamed back a happy thought.

She was not the Overmind, and it was not good… but it was getting better.


	41. Chances

**James**

Jim winced as he rose from his chair, his aching arms grasping for his crutches. Doctor Solus, the salarian who had taken charge of him, Sarah, and Saren, bade him sit, making disapproving sounds.

"Not necessary. Have to keep reminding you?" Mordin shook his head, crossing briskly to the cabinets and opening them with a snap. "Yes, much bravado. Bravery in face of great pain. Duly impressed. Still my patient. Please sit down."

"Can't keep me locked up here forever," grunted Jim, stiffly sinking back into his seat. He tried to ignore the way his heart had sped up and his breathing had grown harsh at this minor exertion. "Been days since Thessia. At least let me out of this-"

"No," said Mordin sharply, turning back to Jim and frowning. "Not just doctor. Bodyguard. Three of you witnesses. Zerg threat over, situation… problematic."

"Bodyguard?" Jim asked incredulously. Mordin ignored him. "This is about Tarsonis right? Has the Council nailed Mengsk yet?"

"No," said Mordin, rounding on Jim with a syringe that made Jim sweat, just a little. The salarian flicked the needle twice. "Hold still, please."

Jim bit his tongue as the needle pressed into his arm. The dosage, to him at least, took far too long to administer, and the pressure seemed to be sending streams of searing wax straight into his veins.

"Council came up with solution," said Mordin briskly. "Suggestion of Tevos, before… removal. Grant political protection, gives you job, makes you Council asset…" Mordin inhaled sharply and smiled widely at Jim. "Everybody wins!"

"Or," said Jim, leaning in conspiratorially. "Or, you know, I just take my damn ship and go on my way, a free man. What harm could that do?"

"To the Council? Very little, most likely," said Mordin, bringing his fingers to his chin in apparent thought. "To you? Swift death, most likely. Udina seemed most certain. Mengsk appears fixated. Doesn't know you are here yet. Likely to change."

_Great._ Jim leaned back in his chair, blowing a steady stream of air from his nostrils. Mordin watched him, head cocked. _Probably tryin' to learn my body language._ The salarian had proven an insatiable well of terran-related curiosity since Jim was rushed to the Citadel's hospital alongside the other non-protoss survivors of the ground push. To Jim's surprise, most of the questions had been less about the technology and biology of his people, and more about the culture and history. Music in particular had become a sticking point for Mordin, making Jim grateful for the first time in his life that he couldn't play an instrument. The doctor would likely have forced him to play, a needle in hand and a meaningful look in his eye.

_Well, no. That ain't true._ The salarian had been courteous and friendly, in his own clipped and manic way. _And if he's really bodyguardin' me, then I guess I owe him one._ He rubbed his arm. _Even if he's makin' me stay and stickin' me full of drugs._

"Other patients making good recovery," said Mordin, bulging eyes scanning Jim up and down. "Saren coping well with loss of arm, probably due to promise of replacement. Fortunate to be alive."

"And Kerrigan?" asked Jim as Mordin paused.

"Fine," said Mordin after taking a sharp breath. "Future uncertain, however. Largest liability to have running around. Powerful psionic. Capable covert operative. Wanted badly by Mengsk. Witness to Tarsonis…"

"You ain't touchin' her," rising to his feet with as much vigor as he could muster. Mordin snorted.

"Can't touch her," he said, obviously amused. "As stated: powerful psionic. Capable covert operative. Bluntly: larger threat than yourself or Saren. Imprisoning her about as likely as taking protoss alive."

That deflated Jim, despite the raw fire that still burned in his chest. _Right. She can take care of herself._ He still gave Mordin his best glare.

"And… and you best remember that," he said, making Mordin shake his head once more.

"Can scarcely forget. Would not let approach with syringe at first. Frozen in place by mind." Mordin inhaled sharply once more. "Fascinating. But worth discussing another time. Gave Saren permission to speak to you. Waiting outside. Need permission."

Jim sat back down, exhausted. _He won't give up, will he?_ He waved angrily, but Mordin didn't react.

"Let him in," he snapped, and Mordin hit the door panel and slipped out of sight. Saren entered shortly afterward.

It was one of the few, maybe even the only time Jim had seen Saren outside his armor. He looked smaller, not least because his left arm was gone, having been ripped off by a piece of debris from Orbital Platform Siha. Jim had been told that, had Saren not forced him to the ground and put up a barrier, it would have likely cut him in half. _Great. So that's one terran life saved, two and something billion to go. Then you'll be even._

"Captain," said Saren, his hawk-eyed gaze meeting Jim's with a measure of respect, but no fear. "I heard your legs have not been healing well. You have my sympathies."

"Your arm don't look good, neither," said Jim stiffly, gesturing to Saren's folded over sleeve. "Sorry about that."

Saren stood there awkwardly for a moment, almost looking like he was going to flee from the room at any given second.

"Do you know what the Council's planning for us?" Saren asked suddenly, prompting Jim to shake his head and then shrug. "They want to make us Spectres, agents of the Citadel. It would give you… us… the necessary political immunity from Mengsk's inevitable backlash." Saren looked away from Jim, his eyes far off. "I… I have always dreamed of such an honor. I did not think… I had hoped it would not be under circumstances like this."

"Spectres, huh?" Jim folded his arms. "Like ghosts, then? Black ops type of thing?"

"Black ops does not begin to cover it!" said Saren, stepping forward into the room, now enthusiastic. "Jim – there are countless vids made about the activities of Spectres, and many of them are tame compared to what they actually do. They are the hidden framework that supports the Citadel's existence. They are the first and last line of defense!"

_Dirty business then._ _A Cerberus type of thing._ Jim felt a pang at that. _Crap. Harper's waitin' for me. For Kerrigan. We do owe him for that Psi Disruptor – wouldn't have had a chance in hell without it._ Jim snorted. _Frankly, we didn't really have a chance in hell _with_ it. Tassadar – what in God's name were you doin' in _Momentum.

Jim had asked Mordin about it a few times. Every time he had got a different theory – Mordin enjoyed reporting what others had speculated and then rating it in terms of likelihood. The report Jim trusted the most (and even then it was unbelievable) was that Adrien Victus, at Tassadar's behest, had elected to ram the Overmind. Shortly afterward, through what Jim could only guess was advanced protoss psionics, the ship had begun glowing with all manner of energies, and the buried ground team abruptly had all the debris that was covering them shifted aside. Then, in a grand finale Jim wished he had been conscious for, _Momentum_ had hit the Overmind at ludicrous speeds, apparently killing it (and Tassadar) for good. When Matt and Artanis had sent rescue teams to the surface, it was to find the ground forces barely intact, but alive. Around them, stretching for miles, was a patch of land untouched by zerg, perfectly circular, clear of all debris or bodies. _Tassadar's doing, I guess._

Saren coughed. "At the very least, we should all feel honored that they consider us candidates. General Victus spoke to me about this once before, but I didn't dare to believe it following… you know."

"Tarsonis, the planet you killed," said Jim, words hanging dead in the air. Saren sighed.

"I do not know what you expect me to do, Jim," said Saren. "The act is done. Many people died. I am unwilling to live my life with the shadow of it hanging over me, forever seeking atonement. I will do what I can to oppose Mengsk and help the survivors… but I feel my debt to you, at least, is paid." He looked at his folded sleeve. "I fear I have few limbs left to spare."

"Yeah," said Jim, unsmiling. "We don't owe each other anything, anymore. We're done."

"We're done," echoed Saren, expression neutral, nodding and exiting the room. The door slid shut, and a familiar voice made Jim jump.

"A sad thing, to see two who were once close divided by such manipulation," said Zeratul, appearing in a shimmer. "Still, I will not fault your emotions. Were those my people, I would act much the same."

Jim grimaced, trying to control the pounding of his heart. "Jesus Christ, man. You scared the hell out of me." He opened his mouth, about to ask how the protoss had got in, but stopped himself. _Protoss wizardry, man. _"Not sure the doc's gonna be happy about you bein' in here."

"The doctor has found himself preoccupied, and none outside this room will hear our exchange," said Zeratul, sounding if anything a little smug. "It is good to see you well."

"Yeah," said Jim, looking at the fresh scars on Zeratul's face – cracked rakes across the cheek and eye, doubtless at the hands of some zergling. "Good to see you in one piece, too."

"Doubtless you have questions about the conclusion of the battle," said Zeratul, crouched before Jim, bringing himself roughly to eye level. "I do as well. Ask, and then I have a great favor to ask of you."

"Uh… if you say so," said Jim, trying not to feel nervous. Despite being of a slimmer frame than the regular protoss and crouched besides, Zeratul still dwarfed him. "What killed the Overmind?"

"The Twilight Messiah," breathed Zeratul, words reverberating with reverence. "Tassadar… I had hoped – I had even believed that he would be the one to finally replicate what Adun had accomplished all of those years ago – but it was another thing to see it. To feel it." Zeratul's hands clenched and unclenched. "And Adrien Victus… we owe him thanks as well. Neither will be forgotten. Not their actions… and not what they stood for." Jim felt a chill at this. Zeratul's eyes burned with a cool righteousness. _Seems on the level… but I'm thinkin' he's got something big to ask of me._

"Any of your guys make it?" asked Jim, simply for the sake of curiosity. _There were six, I think._

"Kythos and Ulrezaj yet live," said Zeratul, sounding thankful. "They, too, were touched deeply by what they witnessed. I don't think there is a single protoss alive who is fully unaware of what transpired. A union of Khala and the Void."

_Right._ Jim still had little idea what the hell the protoss spoke of half the time. _Least they've stopped burnin' planets. And they ain't as apt to rip you limb from limb like the zerg are._

"That's about it, I think," said Jim. "Got plenty of questions for these Council folks, but you protoss… guess all I want to do is thank you. You pulled us out of a damn nightmare."

"Tassadar struck the killing blow, the only blow that mattered," said Zeratul, bowing his head deeply. "I wish… I hope he knew how proud I was of him. His mere existence signifies hope that our peoples might still be united under one banner. Which... has a great deal to do with what I will now ask of you."

"Shoot," said Jim, still a little uncomfortable. Zeratul gazed up at him, unblinking.

"We owe a great deal to Saren, Victus, and Duke," said Zeratul wearily. "Their actions on Thessia are to be lauded. Unfortunately, as I said once before, abandoning Chau Sara's facilities to them naturally resulted in the destruction of said facilities. The protoss rebels were further depleted by Ilos and Thessia, even sacrificing their Mothership. Now, the Conclave has sent forth a summons, and the Golden Armada has been roused. They howl for the heads of Fenix and Artanis, of their followers."

"Great," said Jim, slamming his fist down on a chair handle with a dull thud. "The threat's over, now we can get back to killin' one another for petty reasons. I had hoped you fellas would at least keep your heads straight."

"I understand your frustration," said Zeratul, nodding. "I share it. And what I ask of you… it is both a great honor and a great responsibility." Zeratul closed his eyes. When he spoke next, his words were halting, as if he barely believed what he was saying. "I need your ship to take me back home. To Shakuras. The Matriarch must be informed. Our people must be roused. The Twilight Messiah rose, and there are now Khalai who will welcome our return to Aiur with open arms. It is clear the time is nigh." Zeratul's eyes opened, _burning._ "The Nerazim must go to war. At long last, this will be our homecoming."

A chill ran down Jim's spine, even though he did not fully understand just why this was such a big deal. _Well… guess it could end up being a big war. Still, if he needs a ride, what's the problem?_

"There a reason you couldn't just ask Fenix to take you?" asked Jim.

"We are not yet prepared to disclose Shakuras's location to the High Templar," said Zeratul, "and they have their hands full on the quarian homeworld, Rannoch. They have taken a liking to the geth."

"So… I guess I can do that, once I'm out." Jim shrugged. "Assumin' I ever get out. Uh, is that all?"

"You must never disclose its location," said Zeratul sharply. "Let me make that very clear. I see into your spirit and I find it beyond honest, but there will always be temptation. Should you tell anyone…."

"You guys can turn invisible and cut tanks in half with your laser blades," said Jim, chuckling. "I ain't stup- I ain't _that_ stupid."

Zeratul was quiet for a moment. He nodded once, twice, and then stood.

"Thank you," he whispered, before fading into wisps of smoke. Jim guessed he'd show up again at the most appropriate time. _Protoss are weird._ Zeratul's laughter echoed in Jim's mind once more.

Jim spent a few hours lying in his cot, wondering what was to become of both himself and the people now under his charge. _Got a ship. Matt's still waitin' in dock, know that much. Got a woman… sort of. Well, the woman's got me, really. Got a crew. Got some protoss passengers..._

He wasn't surprised when the door opened and shut without anyone apparently coming through, followed shortly by Kerrigan appearing literally from nowhere. Jim wiggled his eyebrows at her, pushing himself into a sitting position against his pillow.

"Hey darlin'. Food here's terrible."

Sarah smiled at him, shaking her head. "Sorry it took so long to visit. They were keeping a close eye on me. They don't want to let this opportunity slip them by."

"Making you a Spectre?" asked Jim. Kerrigan nodded. "Makes sense. They don't got psionics. Mengsk does. A grateful super-ghost like yourself – can't pass that up."

"They want you too, Jim," said Sarah, sitting herself at the edge of the bed, a hand resting on Jim's leg. "Saren was debriefed extensively, and he never hesitated to speak of your own exploits. You were right there with us, storming _Norad II_, doing that snatch and grab on Halcyon, rescuing people on Tarsonis. You saved Tassadar, who then saved us all. You're _important_, Jim."

"Thanks for the pep talk," said Jim, smiling. "I don't doubt they think I'd be useful – I imagine they'll want every terran they can get on their side. Question is, what's it gonna cost?"

Sarah bit her lip and looked away. _Crap. The Council wants something extreme._

"It means publicly denying that Tarsonis was anything other than an accident," said Sarah, still looking away. "I spoke to Valern about this, and he made a good case. If people knew, it would be pandemonium – no, it would be a clusterfuck. Mengsk would spin it, the terran people would try to leave the Council, and the whole thing would just degenerate so fast. Jim…."

"You can't ask me to do that," said Jim, shaking his head. "Sarah – you were there. Besides, Harper's waiting for us. We promised him-"

"What?" said Sarah, suddenly angry. "We promised him, in exchange for the tech that would make winning against the zerg a remote possibility in the first place, that we would join him for some lengthy KM backed terrorist crusade against Mengsk and the Council?" Sarah clenched her fists. "Jim… I can't. The Council needs me to even the score against Mengsk, who I am told has restructured the Ghost Academy. And Harper… I can't read his mind. He doesn't want me to, doesn't want me to see the things he's done, plans to do. I don't doubt that he's a better man than Mengsk but…"

Sarah rose from the bed, her red hair flashing in the bright light of the hospital. Her lips were pressed tightly together.

"Jim, I trust you. You're the first person I've trusted in a long time – and that might sound melodramatic, but for a ghost… for me… it's a big deal. I want you by my side for this. Spectres together, working against Mengsk in an official capacity. It's more than I ever could have hoped for."

"All we gotta do is cover up a little genocide," said Jim, voice wooden. "Small price to pay, right?"

"You can phrase that way if you like, sure," snapped Kerrigan. "Or, you can think of it as covering up a painful truth that would otherwise spread chaos in a galaxy already ravaged by war. I'll leave it up to you." Her body shimmered and vanished. The door opened and shut. Jim sighed and turned over, burying his head in a pillow. _Can we get back to fightin' zerg again? Zerg are simple._

Time passed. A meal was brought in, but Jim barely touched it. His thoughts turned again and again to the things he had lost.

_Liddy. Johnny. Allen. Hell, even folks like Tassadar and Tychus. Victus. Shiloh's gone. Mar Sara's gone. Ship's waitin' for me, Harper's waitin' for me, but other than that there is nowhere to go. It would be so easy to just say yes to the damn Council._

He had a feeling they would be paying him a visit soon. It seemed they had already spoken to Saren and Sarah, from the way the two had acted. _Picked me last. Least important, and the one most likely to refuse._

When the door opened, however, it was not a councilor who strode through. Matt Horner, resplendent in a new blue uniform, entered with a wide grin on his face.

"You wouldn't believe the paperwork these people put me through," said Matt, laughing as Jim gave a muffled yell and struggled to his feet. They shook hands, Matt's own grip crushing Jim's. "It's good to see you, sir."

"And it's damn good to see you, Matt," said Jim, letting his pilot take a seat. "You visited Kerrigan?"

"She's out with the Council," said Matt, sounding a bit confused. "Coming to some kind of arrangement. The doctor said it had something to do with you as well."

"Yeah, they got an offer comin'," said Jim, suddenly uncomfortable. "How're the Rangers?"

"What's left of them, you mean?" said Matt sharply. Jim's face fell. "Celebrating. Jenny's found herself an asari – claimed she wasn't into women, but she'd settle for… well, you don't need to hear what Jenny called her partner. It could be worse. People know we were on Thessia. Free drinks, board. Um. Lot of asari…." Matt blushed, but Jim just laughed.

"Glad to hear some people remember this is a victory, I guess," Jim gave Matt a thumbs up. "Go for it, dammit. You only live once. No need to emulate this moody old bastard."

"I'll pass, thanks," said Matt, shifting in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. "There's another thing. You remember the folks on Mar Sara, the ones the Council found a world for?"

"Almost forgot," said Jim, pensive. "Buck's still with 'em, right?"

"As far as I know," said Matt, looking excited. "Jim, they've declared independence from the Dominion. They're a Council sponsored state – the Independent Terran Systems Alliance. Small, obviously, no military to speak of, but they're buried deep in Council territory where Mengsk can't touch them. The planet they got, they called it Eden Prime. I'm told it lives up to its name."

"Really?" Jim couldn't help but share Matt's excitement. "Well… that's good news. Great news, actually." He shifted on the bed. "Any word on Mengsk?"

"Busy back in his little empire," said Matt sourly. "Securing his power base, checking in with Udina regularly. He made a lot of promises, and now it's time to pay up."

_Yeah. Good luck with that._

"He still doesn't know we're here," said Matt, now sounding hopeful. "The doctor mentioned the Council had come up with some kind of solution to grant us all political immunity. Didn't mention specifics, though."

"Yeah," said Jim, not quite having the heart to tell Matt just what the cost was. _I know what he'd do. Defy the Council. Try to find another way. Hell… would it be fair to ask his opinion? Maybe… maybe Sarah's right. Maybe this would be for the greater good._

They chatted for a while, but there was nothing of substance that they were really willing to discuss at that time. _Don't need to talk about Thessia just yet. Too fresh._ When he finally left, he was swiftly replaced by Sparatus, who glowered at the retreating Matt. _Guess he got kept waiting._

"I'm told you were informed of the deal already," said Sparatus, clearly irritated. "It is the best we can offer you. Mengsk has put us in a damnably difficult position to work with, and Udina dislikes compromise. And yet, Kerrigan informs me that you are disinclined to accept our invitation." Sparatus's eyes narrowed. "I hope you have a good reason for giving me this throbbing headache, Captain."

"None… none at all, sorry," said Jim, heart pounding. _Shit. Is this the right thing?_ "Tell me where to sign."

Things proceeded remarkably quickly from there. From what Jim gathered, they had already been preparing a ceremony – it was simply a matter of knowing who was going to show up. With Jim's acceptance, they could get things rolling almost immediately. As Jim clambered into the skycar, Mordin helping him with his crutches, he sighed and looked out into the Presidium.

Glistening white, it was hard to see any damage left from the Reaper and zerg attack. _It looks so clean. And I gotta protect this. _Leaning back in his seat, Jim thought back to the massive ship the protoss had destroyed. _There more of those things? The geth said there were. Might be worth investigating._ It was hard to care, though. Jim had already held back from fighting Mengsk once. Not again. _Then how is coverin' up Tarsonis not holdin' back?_ Jim shook himself as Mordin sat down next to him. _Not doin' this for you. Doin' this for Sarah. For Matt._

To Jim, it almost seemed like the skycar landed as soon as it had taken off. He was ushered out of the vehicle and more or less carried up the stairs by muttering C-Sec officers. He was stood next to Sarah, who was between himself and the one-armed Saren. She gave him a small nod, but Jim could sense the smile underneath. It made him feel sick.

_This… this is the right thing to do, isn't it?_

Valern, Sparatus, and Udina stood above them, looking down on their Spectres-to-be with eager eyes. _Guess the asari didn't get to keep the seat. Damn shame. _Last he had heard, Thessia was still covered in zerg, many of whom had gone berserk in the aftermath of the battle. _Don't seem fair to me. But then, I don't make the rules._

The councilors had begun speaking, Valern and Sparatus taking turns while Udina leered on. Jim fidgeted, his crutches clacking against the floor.

_It's for the greater good, like robbin' trains. Parents didn't accept a cent…_ Jim wiped his sweating brow, realized he was growing feverish. Sarah made a gentle shushing noise that she clearly hoped was comforting. Jim paid it no mind.

_So many people left behind at New Gettysburg. Got to be selfish then. Darla Perkins shot, then forgotten._ Jim shut his eyes. _Mengsk declarin' himself emperor. Killed all of those people, and then he got the Council to fight to keep him in power. _

"Jim, it's okay," Sarah said directly into his head, putting him in mind of the evac back on Mar Sara. This time, Jim didn't believe her.

"Spectres are the Council's first and last line of defense," said Sparatus, staring down at the three of them. "In these trying times, the need for people such as yourselves becomes ever more-"

Shaking his head violently, Jim coughed, his loud hack echoing through the Tower. Udina shot him a searing glance, but Jim ignored it.

"Jim, don't-"

"I can't accept this," said Jim, his heart thudding dully, his nerves feeling deadened. "I'm sorry. I know – in a lot of ways – this doesn't make sense. But I can't do this. It ain't right."

"Think of what you are throwing away!" exploded Udina, face purpling. "Raynor, you fucking _simpleton_, we're trying to _protect _you!"

"You should be tryin' to protect your people," said Jim, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Protectin' them from the likes of Mengsk, not settin' it up so they can fall again."

"If we spread the truth, there will be war," said Valern calmly. "Do you think we bear that man any love? Please… Captain. Be reasonable."

"Doin' the reasonable thing means doin' the wrong thing," said Jim, looking to Sarah, tears in both their eyes. "I'm sorry, darlin'." Collecting his crutches, Jim turned away from the Council and began limping out of the Tower.

"To hell with this!" growled Udina from behind. "C-Sec!"

"Touch him, and I kill everyone in this room," said Sarah, her voice stilling the Tower chambers. _Darlin'. I'm sorry. _When he made it to the stairs, it was to find to his embarrassment that he could barely traverse them. A strong arm surprised him from behind and began helping him descend.

"You owe me once more," said Saren, voice… cracking? "You damn fool."

Jim passed by rows of C-Sec officers that looked to him with unfriendly eyes. It was with some satisfaction that Zeratul appeared among them, causing a cry to go up.

"A hard choice," said Zeratul, voice not disapproving as the officers scattered. "Are you ready to leave?"

Jim looked back up the steps. The Council had concluded their ceremony with shaking voices, and polite applause echoed from the top of the Tower. _I wish you both well. I'm sorry._ He half expected Sarah to come rushing down to meet him, but there was no sign of motion, no shimmer of a cloak. _I guess this is it._

"Not sure I'm ready to leave," said Jim, turning away from the Council. "But that's what we're doin'." _Got promises to keep. First Shakuras, then maybe Eden Prime. Then Moria._

Jim crutched his way to the elevator, Zeratul helping him along. He paused one last time as the doors hissed open.

This time, he resisted the urge to look back.

* * *

**Next Chapter: Epilogue**


	42. Morituri te Salutant

**Epilogue**

**Six Years Later**

**Gerard**

"Are you scared?" asked Helena, her arm seeking Gerard's and wrapping around it, coiling around his body ever so gently. "What are you thinking?"

Gerard sighed, looking down at the sleek ship they had presented him, one that blended all manner of fresh discoveries and archaic technologies. _A Valkyrie frigate with full spectrum cloaking and heat dispersal capabilities, specifically designed to be the tip of the spear for this endeavor. It even has an eezo core, out of what little we could scrounge from our system._ The ship shone in the bright light of the hangar. _A merging of the old and new. Honoring an era even as it dies, pressing forward into the future._

"I am thinking of Xerxes," said Gerard, brow furrowed. "He gathered an army so large that it drained rivers dry in its passing – hyperbole, to be sure, but by all accounts it was still a… massive undertaking, what he did. Given the time he lived." Gerard looked to his wife, who gave him a knowing smile. "I am wondering what he would say if he saw what we are doing now. I am wondering if, in the future, some new admiral would look back on the Expeditionary Armada and think much the same I did of him."

Helena squeezed his arm, and Gerard shut his eyes.

"They will not wait for you much longer," she said softly, her lips at his ear, her hair tickling his neck. "Are you scared?"

"I dare a single man or woman in this Armada not to feel some trepidation," replied Gerard, sighing deeply. "Yes. I am scared."

There was a knock at the door behind them, and Gerard's heart almost stopped beating. He looked into his wife's blue eyes, trying to stop his lip from trembling. _We've had so much time together. I have already said goodbye to Camille and Madeleine. How many concerts and sporting events of theirs have I attended? How many times have I awoke next to my wife? Why… why can I not find myself satisfied with the generous amount of time I've had with them? It shouldn't feel unfair. But it does._

"Enter!" barked Gerard, turning away from Helena and wiping his eyes quickly with his sleeve. The man who entered likewise bore the officer's uniform of the UED, but his patches indicated his status as a captain, rather than an admiral. He was tall, broad shouldered, and dark skinned. _Ah. I wondered if I would get a chance to speak with you._

"Captain Anderson, a pleasure to meet you once again," said Gerard, sounding far happier than he truly felt. He gestured to his wife. "My loving spouse, Helena. Helena, this is Captain David Anderson – the hero of Lunar Base."

"I remember you, Captain," said Helena, who met Anderson halfway and shook his hand firmly, other hand on his forearm. "You and your men prevented quite the catastrophe. I found it difficult to find a topic to discuss with Alexei and Gerard other than yourself and your little band of soldiers for quite some time."

"I am flattered," said Anderson, looking quite uncomfortable. "But I stand by what I told everyone else; we only did what we thought was right. Our duty. It should not have become the massive affair that it did."

"The AI could have posed a significant risk to our efforts," said Gerard, joining his wife. "Your humility is admirable, Captain, but inappropriate. We owe a great deal to you and yours. I am honored to have you alongside me as we make that final march."

"Thank you, Admiral," said Anderson, still sounding uncomfortable. "They are waiting for you. Admiral Stukov sent me up. Are you ready?"

Gerard glanced at his wife, uncertain. She gave the slightest of nods. _They should have put you in charge, my love. You are braver than me by far._

"I am ready, Captain," said Gerard firmly. "Let us not keep them waiting any longer." He turned to his wife. "Helena…."

"Keep Alexei safe," she said sharply. "I don't care what that man says, he needs someone to look after him. Don't take any stupid risks." She pulled him in close, kissing him once on each cheek and then drawing close to his ear. "I don't care if you win, Gerard. Please… just come home."

They pulled apart. Gerard's mouth opened and shut. All the while, Captain Anderson waited by the door, becoming more uncomfortable by the minute.

"I shall return," said Admiral Gerard DuGalle, drawing an approving nod from his wife as tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "Helena, you have my word. I shall return home." Slowly, with the weight of far too many destinies bearing him down, Gerard turned to Captain Anderson. "It is time."

Gerard didn't dare look back as he left the room, knowing that seeing his wife again would only make things more difficult. The corridors of the UED's Alpha Base, having been so full of traffic only hours ago, were now almost empty. _The people here are either waiting in the control towers or loaded on to the ships._

Alexei waited by the main exit to the base, almost bouncing with glee at the approach of Anderson and Gerard.

"My good admiral!" cried Alexei, his voice sounding far less thick than usual. As the preparations had reached their final stages, he had been spending more and more time with his true love: vodka. "At long last, after so many years, our plans bear fruit. Earth stands poised to launch its greatest endeavor in its long history. How do you feel?"

"I am relishing the feel of familiar ground underneath my feet," said Gerard. "I am also trying not to think of what I am leaving behind. The troops can ill afford a morose admiral."

"They will cope, I am sure," said Alexei, offering a sly wink to the Captain. "Thank you for wrestling him away from Helena, Captain. I know from experience that it is no mean feat. The two are… quite attached."

"It was no trouble," said Anderson, fixing his gaze forward, past the doors and into the waiting crowds. "Let me know when you are ready."

"Gerard," said Alexei, looking up at his friend and fiddling with Gerard's uniform, fixing the rumples, "this is no time for regret, for any kind of sadness or fear. This – you – will be making history! Children will look to the footage of this event, to you, and be left in awe!" Alexei stepped back, staring at Gerard and nodding in apparent satisfaction. "There. You are the very prototypical image of a UED admiral. Now – no regrets. As you have said so many times to the masses: "Do not be afraid to suffer. The future awaits us!""

"Well then – let's get on with it," replied Gerard wryly, provoking a harsh bark of laughter from Alexei, who gestured to the door.

"Well played… my old friend."

The doors slammed open at their approach, the roar of the crowd turning into a frenzied scream as, at long last, the people witnessed the moment they had so long been waiting for.

Captain Anderson went first, tall and proud, his bearing stiff and professional. Alexei followed, shorter and more informal, smiling grimly at the many, many people bellowing his least favorite meme at him.

Gerard brought up the rear, taller than them both, and hopefully more immaculate. Rose petals fell from the skies, cast from the baskets of countless well-wishers. Speakers blared at their passing, announcing the presence of the admiral who had brought the attention of aliens to them, the Captain who had prevented a major security risk, and the man who would lead their hopes and their strength into the heavens. Their boots pounded the soft carpet sticking close to the center. Men and women reached in, their arms stretching to touch the men they so venerated, their fingers splayed out and grasping. Gerard reached out, gloved fingertips brushing theirs as he passed.

The pride and joy of the UED fleet, the flagship _Aleksander_, waited at the end, a mobile stairway having been planted at its portside entrance. Gerard faced forward, drawing in a deep breath as the ship drew ever closer. _This is what you wanted, Alexei, and I am proud to serve, to do my duty. This is to be my one last moment of weakness._

Leaving the crowds behind and shaking off the rose petals, the three of them climbed, one after the other. The stairs went on and on, and the people speaking to the crowds were whipping them into a frenzy, their shrieks making Gerard's head ache. _I really am getting old. I am bearing witness to the adulations of an entire planet, and all it does is make my head hurt._ They closed the distance.

Several aides helped them inside, mercifully sealing the airlock behind them. The screams of the crowd faded into nothing more than a distant rumble. _And soon, we will be out of their reach._

Most of the personnel had already clambered into their pods – the corridors of _Aleksander_ were even deader than Alpha Base. People muttered greetings at them as they passed, but it was obvious at this stage that they were more concerned with getting the final flight checks out of the way before liftoff rather than paying their respects to the men who would be leading them.

They stopped before the main storage area.

"You are certain you want to do this?" asked Alexei for what Gerard hoped would be the last time. "You are their leader – I am not sure they would even want to see you on the same level as them."

"Our ranks may differ, but our mission and our sacrifice is the same," said Gerard firmly, for the last time. "I will take my place among the troops, Alexei. It is final."

"Then this is where we part for now, old friend," said Alexei, offering a wide smile. "I will make the final arrangements. It has been and will be an honor."

"There is no one I would rather have at my side," said Gerard, clasping Alexei's arm and nodding once. "Go. I will see you once we hit the threshold of alien space. The future awaits us."

Alexei walked away in the direction of the bridge, only looking back once at the Captain and his good admiral. Gerard sighed and met Anderson's gaze.

"The hard part, then," said Gerard.

They walked among the other soldiers, most of whom had already stripped down to their underwear and clambered inside their pods. A few expressed surprise at the sight of their admiral walking in their midst, but most were intent on what they were doing.

"This is my pod," said Captain Anderson, stopping suddenly. "With your leave… I suppose I better make ready."

"Of course," said Gerard, shaking the Captain's hand. "I will see you on the other side. I look forward to working with you, Captain."

They gave their perfunctory goodbyes and Gerard continued, checking the pods periodically to note the number. _One two eight four._ When he found it, he did not hesitate to begin removing articles of clothing. _Faster this is over with, the better. _He wondered how many of the soldiers around him would stop and stare, simply for the novelty of seeing a near naked admiral. _I'm not going to bother checking._

Shivering in his underwear, Gerard clambered inside his pod, pulling it shut behind him as it hummed into life. The automated systems scanned him briefly before linking tubes to his temples. The sound of his heart beating echoed through the small spaces.

_They will be loading our little stealth Valkyrie. _Gerard chuckled as he remembered Alexei's reaction at his friend's chosen name.

"It was the largest amphibious assault in human history," Gerard had said.

"The fact that it took place in France had nothing to do with it, I am sure," Alexei had replied, sounding quite amused. _We still need to find a ground team for it. I think a little competition is in order._

Gerard closed his eyes, listening to his shallow breathing, trying not to worry about the countless problems that could befall their Armada on the long journey ahead.

_The turians and salarians are at each other's throats. The colonials have allied themselves with the aliens but find themselves still divided. The protoss and zerg are barely present… no better time to show our hand. But there are still so many things that could go wrong._ _Xerxes's army did not merely break upon the Greek forces. The short journey across the seas between them is what caused the brunt of the casualties._

"Alpha Base Control Tower to _DSS __Aleksander_, you are fully loaded and all flight checks are completed. Are you ready to begin?" The woman's voice reverberated through the hold. Gerard thought he could sense the other pods stilling at her words.

"This is Admiral Stukov, pods are green, systems are green. Firing engines."

The pod began to rumble, and Gerard's fist clenched. The conversation continued unabated.

"Alpha Base Control Tower to _DSS Aleksander_, you are cleared for lift off. Our hopes and dreams go with you. Long live the United Earth Directorate."

"To the stars, then," said Alexei, voice gleeful. Gerard's heart pounded as the pod began its process, as the cold began to close in. Alexei's final words, a phrase Gerard had long associated with the drums of parades, with the thrill of victory, with the might of Earth's fleets, were the last thing he heard, and he was glad for it, for it calmed his now freezing nerves.

"Battlecruiser operational."


	43. Sequel's Out

**At the recommendation of a few people, I'm posting this to let people know that the sequel is up. It is rated M, so you might have to adjust your filters. Or you can just click on my profile and select the story there. You can also find Sudden Supremacy at Spacebattles. Thanks for reading!**

**May as well include the old end of fic A/N as well.**

**Big ass A/N:**

**Holy shit. It's finally over. Not only is this the first fic I have completed, it is also (from what I can see) the first finished ME/SC crossover on this site. I cannot speak for other websites, but still. Damn.**

**I wondered what it would be like to get here, and what I would do. I think this is the appropriate time to offer thanks. First off, thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, favorited, anything. You've been more than I likely deserve.**

**Specific Thanks:**

**Huge thank yous to continual reviewers: 5 Colored Walker (reviewed nearly every chapter, offered good concrit, first to review), Quelthias, Finwee Lord of Long Winds, Nomad-117, reality deviant, Harbinger of Kaos, and Flameraven. A lot of you guys have been here since near the beginning, and I've been very happy to hold your attention.**

**Huge thanks to TDK132 for both reviewing and translating this story into Korean, though I think college has stalled those plans for the moment (which is quite understandable.)**

**A big thank you to Vahn, Yanslana, Crazy Iemon, and Jmat for reviews that made me feel like I was doing a good job (in the sense that I was conveying what I meant to convey) in writing this fic. **

**A weird thank you to Phasehand who was both the very first person to view this fic and the very first person to favorite it. Yes, I watched. Did he/she actually read it? Who knows.**

**An enormous thank you to Drgyen for creating a Tropes page for Sudden Contact. That was very unexpected, but welcome.**

**Huge thank you to NewAgeofPower for crit and working with me on the Codex for the future sequel. We still have a lot of ideas to go over and it will take some time, but it's been a real pleasure so far, man.**

**Future plans:**

**I will be taking a break from writing. That being said, let me provide you with a teaser of what to expect from the sequel and the things I will be tackling in the near future:**

**More POVs. I don't think many POVs will be returning from Sudden Contact, mainly because half of them are currently dead. That being said, a major misgiving I had while writing this fic was that Mass Effect was a bit underrepresented. There will be more ME alien POVs in the sequel. Also, a small exciting spoiler, Tychus Findlay will be a POV.**

**Darker story. The sequel will be rated M. The UED lends itself to such.**

**A mix of ME2, SC2, and Brood War. The fusion of the two settings lends itself to massive clusterfucks. Expect that to continue.**

**Codex and timeline as a separate fic. The universe is too broad to work background into the story without it becoming hugely awkward and bloated, so a Codex from the perspective of the UED will be written. It will mainly cover political developments in the six year interim.**

**I will be going back and fixing errors in all chapters. If anyone here from Spacebattles is interested, I would be happy to post the corrected version of the fic on the website, as I know a fair few readers hail from that corner of the web. Only if you feel it would be appropriate/welcomed, though.**

**With all that out of the way... wow. It's been a blast, guys. Thanks for reading. If you've got enormous reviews to drop that cover the entirety of the fic and either rip it to shreds or exalt it mightily, now is the time. Also, constructive criticism would be beyond welcomed, for it will directly benefit the sequel.**

**This... was Sudden Contact.**


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